Occulta
by littlemewhatever93
Summary: In a world taken over by corpses that desire nothing else but to consume human flesh, most people would call it a blessing to go unnoticed by them. Not me. My invisibility is my curse; just you wait and see. Rated M for future adult situations, general gore/horror and a potty mouth narrator to top it off. Please read and review! Eventual DarylxOC
1. Don't Look Back

**Author's Note:**

**First off, I'm a HUGE fan of _The Walking Dead_. I've never read the comics but I've spent a fair share of hours binge watching every episode. I love the series so much that I'm hesitant to even attempt a fanfiction of it. But I've had this plot bunny running around in my head for ages and it wouldn't shut up until I put my pen to the paper. Or rather, my fingertips to the keyboard. I've made some subtle changes to the storyline, mostly pertaining to the zombies and their characteristics. I hope no one minds too terribly much. **

**Standard Disclaimer: I do not own _The Walking Dead_. I bow to the copyright of AMC and Robert Kirkman. The only thing I own are my OC characters and their likeness. **

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**Occulta;** latin, _nominative_

occulta f (_masculine_ occultus, _neuter _occultum)

1. hidden, concealed, having been hidden

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The begining of the end of the world started off like any other day.

I woke up to the sound of my mother's alarm clock blaring across the hall, and waited for a moment to see if she would get up and turn it off. After a few minutes of nothing, I groaned and dragged myself reluctantly out of bed.

Stomping down the hall to my mother's room, I threw open the door loudly. My eyes fell to my mother's sleeping form, wondering how it was possible she could sleep so soundly through such ruckus. Then I remembered that yesterday had been Friday, and my mother probably had spent all night at the bars. Irritation filled me as I walked the distance to her alarm clock and I yelled in frustration at what I saw. I slammed my fist down on the box to quiet the sound.

"_Mom_!" I said loudly as I shook her sleeping body. "Mom, wake up! It's 8:30! You were supposed to leave 15 minutes ago for your shift!" She still didn't move. Groaning and rubbing the leftover sleep out of my eyes, I made my way to the kitchen to fill a glass of cold water. As usual, the pipes under the sink groaned for a moment before finally sputtering forth a slow drizzle.

I made my way back to my mother's room, yelling out to her one more time before I threw the contents of the glass on her. Surprisingly, she still didn't move. "Mom?" I asked again, walking to her bed uncertaintly. I shook her again a few times before checking her neck for a pulse. I found it almost immediately, breathing a sigh of relief once I found the quick fluttering under her skin.

Well, at least she wasn't dead. Still, it didn't change the fact that she wasn't waking up. I sighed, leaving my mom's room and heading back into mine. If she didn't show up to work today, she was probably going to get fired. It would be the third job she'd gone through in just as many months.

I jumped into the shower, trying not to wallow in self pity. It was difficult. I felt like a 30 year old stuck in a 17 year old body. Constantly worried about bills and food, whether or not we'd get evicted and have to be homeless. It was easier when my mom had a boyfriend, at least then most of the bills got paid, but then I had to deal with whatever skeevey loser she was dating being around the house. If I heard the phrase '_You look just like your mother_!' one more time, I was going to shrivel up and die.

After suffering through the borderline freezing temperature of the shower for as long as I could stand, I turned the water off and climbed out. There was no condensation on the mirror and I came face to face with my reflection. Even though I didn't like to hear it, it was true that I looked a lot like my mother. If one were to look at pictures of her 20 years ago, one might mix them up with pictures of me present-day. We had the same thin, heart-shaped face and the same high, arched eyebrows. The color of our eyes were only slightly different, her's being a pale blue while mine were more of a greenish blue. Same blonde hair, same thin, agile build.

Leaving my mom passed out in her room, I exited the shithole we called an apartment and locked the door behind me. My messanger bag hung across my body, and I dug in the pockets to try and find change for bus fare. So far, I was fifty cents short.

"Buses ain't running today, sweetheart," came a voice from behind me. I turned to see Martha Williams, a homeless lady that I often saw in my neighborhood. She seemed to have made her home at the side of someone's porch.

"Hi, Miss Williams. What do you mean they're not running? They're always running," I asked.

"Didn't you watch the news this morning? I saw it when I was passing a coffee shop on 6th street. There's this weird outbreak of the flu spreading through the city like wildfire, they're shutting down all public transportation to try to contain it as much as they can."

"How are we supposed to get around? I have to get to work," I asked, looking down worriedly at my old wristwatch. It was approaching 9:15 and I had to be there by 11:00.

"They're telling everyone to stay inside, dear. Said it could be airborne."

"Yeah, well that's not happening. Roy'll kill me if I miss another shift," I said distractedly as I set off down the street. Catching myself, I stopped and turned around and walked back to Martha. "I'm sorry, Miss Williams," I said once I faced her. "Do you have anywhere to go? I don't want you to get sick."

The older lady smiled, her teeth surprisingly white against the dark pigment of her skin. "No, but that's okay, sweetie. I've lived on these streets for ten years. I'll be fine."

I grimaced, not wanting to think about such a nice lady living on the streets for so long. "Are you sure? You can go to my house if you want. My mom's there but she's passed out drunk. She shouldn't bother you," I offered.

Martha looked taken back, and then thoughtful. "You mean it? I could stay there?"

I smiled. "Of course, Miss Williams. There's a key under the doormat. Apartment 206. Just stay in my room. My mom won't go in there, even if she does wake up," I told her. "I've got to get going though, I'm going to be late!"

After saying goodbye, I took off again down the street. I started jogging, knowing that I would be really really late if I didn't. If I got fired, my mom and I would be double screwed.

It wasn't until I reached the downtown area that I started hearing sounds of distress; fire trucks, police sirens, people screaming. I turned around a corner, before immediately stopping and backing up.

One car was overturned in the street, its windows shattered and glistening on the pavement. I could see there was a fire blazing on in one of the middle floors of an apartment complex. People were surging around in all directions, and I could hear their cries and screams of fear. I couldn't see what the initial cause of all the commotion was, and I wasn't sure I wanted to. I took off down the road at full sprint, looking straight ahead to where I needed to go and never once looking back.

I had almost reached _Roy's Paintball and Shooting Range_ when I slowed down to catch my breath. My side was cramping acutely, but I had finally left the craziness of downtown behind me. I looked at my watch, seeing that it was 11:05.

"Fuck!" I exclaimed, before taking off at a run once again, not stopping until I arrived at my destination. I went to pull open the door, only to find it locked. "What the hell, Roy?!" I demanded, banging on the glass in frustration. Roy was the owner and he lived in a loft above the buisness, so there was no way he wasn't here. I continued to bang on the glass for a good ten minutes until suddenly his figure appeared before me. To my extreme surprise, he had a gun pointed at me through the glass.

"What the fuck, Roy?!" I exclaimed, taking a step back. "Don't point that shit at me! Are you insane?"

"Are you bit?" he asked, yelling loud enough for me to hear him through the thick glass.

"The fuck are you talking about? Bit by what?" I asked, annoyed. Roy was always one for jokes and pranks, but pointing an actual gun at me was taking it too far. I knew it was real because I worked with the paintball guns all day, everyday and the chunk of metal in his hands certaintly wasn't one of them.

"Don't fuck around with me, Avery! Are you bit or not?!" he yelled, his finger tapping the trigger on his gun threateningly.

"No, nothing fucking bit me, you lunatic!" I yelled, taking another step back. "I don't know what you're talking about. Why are the doors locked?"

Roy hesitated for a moment before pulling his keys out of his pocket and unlocking the door. As soon as it was opened, he grabbed me and pulled me inside before immediately closing it and locking it once more.

"Are you sure nothing bit you? Or scratched you?" Roy asked once he had put his keys back in his pocket.

"I think I would know if something bit or scratched me," I huffed, irritated. I still wasn't over him pulling a gun on me. "Are you high? What's got you so freaked out? Those doors have never been locked after 11 a.m."

"Haven't you seen what's going on out there, Avery? The whole fucking world is going nuts!" Roy told me before storming off. I followed him, noticing that he was heading towards the shooting range.

"Yeah, so? What else is new? Downtown is pretty crazy, though," I remarked thoughtfully, thinking back to the scene I that I had fled before I really had any time to comprehend it. "Wonder what's going on down there."

Roy stopped dead in his tracks, turning to look at me as if I had grown three heads. "Jesus Christ, Avery, is your head in the fucking clouds?! Its fucking Resident Evil out there, people turning into fucking zombies and eating people!"

I stared at him. I mean, really stared at him. Then I punched him in the stomach.

"What the fuck, Roy?! You pull a gun on me for no fucking reason and then pull some bullshit excuse about zombies? I should kick your ass!"

"Like you could, pipsqueak," he laughed at me. It was true, my punch didn't seem to effect him any more than an annoying mosquito bite would. "I'm being serious. The government is trying to pass it off as some sort of weird flu, but it's bullshit. Video doesn't lie," he told me, matter-of-factly.

This was the point in the prank that Roy normally ended up giving himself away by laughing or splitting into a shit-eating-grin. I waited for either, but they never happened. He looked at my dumbstuck, skeptical face for only a moment before digging in his pocket for his phone.

"Here, I'll prove it to you. The cell phone towers are still working for now," he said the last two words with emphasis. "This video was taken about 48 hours ago, uploaded in Russia. Watch this fucking shit."

And watch I did. It started out with a lot of static noise and a blurry focus, as though the camera was being moved too quickly. I could hear someone breathing in the background like they were running, yelling something in Russian. My mother had been born in Russia, and it was my first language growing up even though I was born in the US. I understood it perfectly.

"_Run! We have to run!_" came a voice from off-camera.

"_I have to get a video of this! Hold on,_" someone else said, as the camera stilled and came into focus. The picture showed a woman chasing a man down the street. Something was definitely wrong with her. Blood drenched the woman's nightgown, bright red and emanating from some unknown location on her body. I watched as her and the man she chased approached the camera, and saw when the man tripped and fell. Like something out of some slasher horror film, the woman pounced, leaping through the air with vicious intent. As soon as she was upon him she tore into his flesh with her teeth. I could see the muscle and tendons seperate from the bone as she went into a frenzy. Fresh blood arked through the air, and the man's screams peirced right through my chest.

"_Holy fuck, she's eating him!_" the voice came from off camera spoke again. "_Run! Fuck your video, we have to run!_"

The video ended. I looked up at Roy, wide-eyed and horrified. If this were a prank, it was a very elaborate one. Way above Roy's pay grade. "This shit is real?" I asked, in shock.

"You bet your pretty little ass it's real," Roy said, and then he laughed. It was a hard sound, without humor. He put his phone back in his pocket, before opening the doors to the shooting range. He headed towards the back of the room, towards a door that I had never had access to.

"What are you gonna do?" I asked, following him once again. "If that video's real, we need to do something! I'm not gonna be zombie food," I said, panic filling me for a moment. My mind flashed back to the chaos that had been going on downtown, remembering the swarms of people running in all directions. I hadn't been looking closely, but had there been _things_ chasing them? I couldn't remember. I sure hadn't seen anyone getting eaten.

"Well, I'm gonna head north a ways. My gramps was a real interesting man, always thinking the world was gonna end in his day. He was almost right, too. Old fucker hasn't even been in the ground five years," Roy told me. He had opened the mystery door at the back of the room, and I noted that it was filled to the brim with guns and ammo. "He's got a cabin up real deep in the woods, all stocked and shit. Real survivor, my gramp was. Always told me I'd appreciate him when the world started going to shit. Old man was a fucking psychic, I swear. Though I doubt he was expecting fucking zombies."

"Can I come with?" I asked, horrified for a moment that he was going to say no. I'd been working for Roy for a little over two and a half years now and he was a good guy. A little gross smelling and slightly sexist, I'll admit, but a good guy nonetheless. He had given me this job even after my mom had dumped his sorry ass a month prior to me applying. But rules changed when the apocalypse was upon you. He could very well toss me to the curb.

"Sure, why not? Safety in numbers and you're not too bad of a shot," he said, barely looking up at me as he continued sorting through his weapons. Relief flowed through me. Thank God I'd have somewhere to go. Thank God I wouldn't be trapped in this city when shit really hit the fan.

"What about my mom, Roy?" I asked, suddenly remembering her at home, passed out drunk. I felt guilty that my mother was an afterthought. "She's got no fucking idea what's going on! She wasn't even conscious when I left," I told him, anxiety lacing my chest. "Please, we have to get my mom," I begged.

Roy paused in his assessment, looking at me. "We'd have to go through downtown to get to your apartment complex, Avery," he said, sounding sorrowful. "It's too dangerous. We've got to get out of town before it's too late."

"Please, Roy? Please? I know my mom's not the greatest person out there, but she's all I have. It'll take 10 minutes with your driving. We'll take the back roads. I swear it'll be quick," I pleaded with him, desperation thick in my voice. I wasn't proud. I'd fucking beg if I had to.

Roy sighed, looking up at the ceiling as if it could give him the answers he wanted. Finally, after holding my breath as I waited for him to answer, he spoke. "Fine, Blondie. We'll go get your mom."

I exhaled in relief. Roy and my mom hadn't had the cleanest of breakups, but he was actually one of the few good guys she'd dated. "Thank you. Thank you so much, Roy."

Things went quickly after that. Roy had me help him with packing. We loaded up fuel, food and supplies, all the while keeping our ears open. The chaos from downtown seemed to be moving closer to us, sirens peeling down the street we were on. Downtown was the epicentre, and like an earthquake it was spreading out in all directions.

Once Roy's truck was loaded, we climbed inside. It was difficult for me to get in, since the truck had been lifted far above its original height. I huffed in frustration when Roy had to lean over the passenger side to give me a hand.

"Don't huff, this truck is a beast. It does good on the road and even better off of it," he told me once I was safely inside the cab. He turned the key in the ignition and it roared to life. The garage door opened and we peeled out into the street.

As I had suggested, we took all backroads to my apartment. We seemed to stay away from all the craziness up until we were about a mile away from my home. Then we crossed an invisible line between reality and hell. There was a multicar accident, and flames leapt from the hood of two of the cars. Some people were running and screaming, trying to avoid whatever had ensured the panic. Others stood motionless and in shock, watching the scene around them unfold.

Roy's beast of a truck traversed the chaos easily. He didn't slow down even the tiniest bit, and people lunged out of the way to avoid him. I would have yelled at him for his madman driving, but to be honest I was too scared. I was grateful for his speed.

As we passed the accident, I watched as a woman got out of the passenger side of one of the cars. Blood dripped down the side of her face, and she opened her mouth in a scream as she looked over to the driver's side where her companion sat, motionless and head resting on the steering wheel. She ran to the other side of the car to where he was, and pulled desperately on the car door to try to open it.

I watched a man approach the screaming woman from behind. The man walked stiffly, as though fighting his limbs to cooperate. The woman didn't notice the man's approach, and threw her head back to cry, apparently realizing that her companion in the car was dead. It gave the man behind her an opening and I watched as he lunged at her, ripping through the flesh of her throat like butter. I was powerless to stop it and powerless to look away.

I didn't realize that I was sobbing until I felt Roy grab my hand and squeeze it gently. Only then did I feel the tears streaming down my cheeks. "Don't look back, pipsqueak. Don't look back," he advised me, his tone was gentler than I had ever heard.

We came to a stop in front of my complex, only a few streets away from the craziness we had driven through. I made to get out of the car when Roy's hand grabbed my forearm, stopping me. I looked at him as he spoke.

"Look, Avery, you're a good girl and I don't mind getting you and your mom out of here," he began, "but I'm not about to become a zombie's main course. You get your ass in there, get your mom, and come right back out. You've got ten minutes. Ten minutes, or I'm fucking gone. Is that clear?"

"Crystal," I managed to get out. The thought of him leaving me in the middle of a zombie horror movie was almost enough to give me a panic attack, but I forced myself out of the truck and jumped down to the pavement below. Knowing there was no time to waste, I slammed the door and took off at full sprint to my apartment complex. It was suspiciously quiet, especially for a Saturday afternoon, but I figured it had a lot to do with the city telling everyone to stay indoors because of the 'flu' outbreak. My apartment was on the second floor, and I ran up the flights of stairs until I found my door. It was locked, and I fished my key out of my bag and unlocked the door with shaking fingers.

My apartment was quiet, exactly as I had left it. I figured my mom would have been awake and making her coffee by now, and I prayed that she wasn't still passed out. I did not have the time to wake her drunk ass up before Roy left us high and dry.

"Mom?" I called out, stepping tentatively into our kitchen. There was no response. _She's still fucking sleeping_! I thought furiously, making my way into the living room. How could she fucking sleep at a time like this?! The whole fucking world was ending and she was catching some _zzz_'s.

I approached the hallway that led to our rooms. Only then did I realize that something was off. A low growling reached my ears, as well as a sort of wet, _squelsh_ing noise. I slowed my steps, fear overwhelming my senses for a moment. I wanted nothing more than to turn around and run back to the safety of Roy's truck, but determination made my feet continue forward. I peeked into my mother's room, but she wasn't there. I could still see the imprint that her body left in the mattress, so she couldn't have gone far.

The growling steadily grew louder as I passed my mother's room and headed towards my own. Even from a distance, I could tell something was wrong. My bedroom door was open, hanging on its hinges. My bedroom door was never open. Taking a deep breath and gathering all my courage, I walked the few steps down the hall to my room, standing in the doorway.

Nothing could have prepared me for what I saw. Not the chaos downtown, not the video Roy showed me, not the display that I saw on the way here. Nothing could have prepared me for the sight of my mother, crouched down close to the floor as she tore into the stomach of Martha Williams. It was horrifying. Miss Williams was totally still, though her eyes were open wide in horror. My mom was completely naked, the thin bathrobe that she normally wore to bed had apparently fallen off, and I could see deep scratches on her back. I had seen them before on my mother, normally after one of her boyfriends left the morning after spending the night. These scratches were worse though, having taken off large chunks of her flesh. Green puss oozed out of them.

"Mom?" I managed to choke out, shaking like a leaf.

At the sound of my voice, my mothers head whipped around to face me and she _snarled_. I couldn't help the small scream that escaped from my mouth. My mother's face, once so like mine, was contorted horribly. Green legions spread across her skin, and her blue eyes were completely clouded over, unseeing. Her gums were inflamed and black, making her teeth look elongated and yellow.

My mother was a fucking zombie. I was about to die.

I stood frozen, waiting for her to spring at me. But to my extreme surprise, she didn't. She continued to stare at me with those horrible, unseeing eyes, her mouth still set in a snarl. I watched as her nostrils flared dramatically and heard a low growl in her throat. Then, amazingly, she turned around and went back to eating Miss Williams' intestines.

I didn't know what was going on, but she didn't seem interested in eating me. Not letting myself really absorb the situation before me, I edged into my room, staying as close to the wall and as far away from my mom as I could. I approached my bed and reached under it for the safe I kept there. Unlocking it, I pulled out my trusty .22 caliber pistol(nicknamed Opal for the white iridescent inset on its handle) that Roy had gotten me for my 16th birthday. I grabbed the couple of boxes of ammo I had, and shoved both into my bag. I then ran to my dresser, grabbing some clothes and shoving them in too.

I had purposely avoided looking at my mother as I gathered materials from around my room, and only once I was done did I allow myself to look at her again. She was still in the center of the room, munching contently on Miss Williams' insides, completely oblivious to the gore she was getting all over her body. Blood pooled on the floor, staining the carpet that I had begged my mother to replace not even a month prior.

I couldn't look anymore. Call it cowardly or call it acting in self interest, but I ran. I ran out of that room and away from the monster that had once been my mother. I ran to the bathroom, ripping open the medicine cabinet and nearly tearing it off the hinges in my haste. Inside was a decent supply of my mom's painkillers and antibotics, and I hurriedly shoved everything in my bag. If there was ever a time I was thankful for my suitcase of a purse, it was now.

After grabbing everything of use from the bathroom, I hightailed it out of there. I didn't even shut the door to the apartment on my way out. I ran down the hall, ignoring the pounding of my heart and the cramp in my side. It wasn't until I reached the stairwell that I ran into trouble. There was a man there, and under the fluorescent lighting the green legions under his skin stood out like a flashing neon sign saying _DANGER! This zombie is about to eat you_! He apparently was trying to climb the stairs, but his stiff limbs kept tripping him. When I entered the room, his head snapped my direction as the metal door behind me closed loudly.

Again, I tensed, waiting for him to attack me. His mouth opened and he growled low in his throat, his nostrils flaring as he stared in my general direction. I couldn't move my feet, and I reached into my bag to locate Opal in case of the worst. Just as I turned the safety off, the man seemed to lose interest, the snarl dropping from his mouth as he began to try to climb the stairs again, paying me no mind.

After a few seconds, I forced myself to move, knowing my time was cutting short. I edged my way around the man, staying as close to the wall as possible. Once I was past him, I took off at a run again. I bursted through the entrance door and my heart soared at the sight of Roy's truck sitting there, still running. Thank god.

Moaning and screaming caught my attention and I looked down the street, to the source of the sound. I shit you not, I almost pissed my pants at when I saw a horde of zombies heading down the street. Dozens and dozens of them, coming towards us.

Running to Roy's truck as fast as I could, I threw open the passenger's side door and leaped inside, adrenaline making the jump easy. I slammed the door shut behind me and pushed down the lock, before turning to Roy. "Fucking drive! Get us the fuck out of here! Go, go, go!" I yelled, looking over my shoulder at the approaching mob.

Roy didn't waste any time. The engine roared as he punched the gas, and we were off. "Jesus, Avery! Cut it fucking close enough?! I was about to drive off without you!" Roy berated me as he navigated through the streets. Chaos seemed to be everywhere now. Sirens were a constant wail and fires seemed to be breaking out every twenty feet. People were surging out of their houses onto the street, some running to try to flee and others walking around stiffly, trying to find their next meal. People yelled out at us as we passed them in the truck, begging us to stop and let them in. Roy kept driving.

"Where's your mom, Avery?" Roy finally asked me when I didn't respond to his previous angry words. He must have sensed something was up because normally when he gave me shit I dished it out right back. Now though, I was trembling all over with my knees drawn to my chest. My stomach felt like it was turning itself inside out and I was suddenly glad I hadn't eaten at all today, for it surely would have come back up all over the interior of his truck.

"She was...one of those things," I managed to tell him. "When I got up there, she was eating Miss Williams. I told her this morning she could stay at my place, where she'd be safe," I choked out. Someone was sobbing and it took me a moment to realize it was me. "Oh god, Roy, it was horrible. What's happening? Why is this happening?" I cried out, becoming hysterical.

"Did you get bit, Avery?" Roy asked, his voice turning hard in an instant.

"No, Roy, I didn't. I swear," I told him, before shrugging out of my flanel. I was only wearing a camisol beneath, so it showed a decent amount of my skin. "See?"

He looked at me for only a moment, before nodding. "Yeah, I see. Put your clothes back on, you're distacting me," he said gruffly, but I could tell he was trying to lighten the mood, not be creepy. I couldn't bring myself to laugh.

We drove out of the city as quickly as possible, using the road when it was passable and going off road when it wasn't. As we approached the town limits, Roy veered off road completely and headed toward the forest that surrounded our area. It was a stretch of land used often by mudders during the wet months, and it didn't surprise me that Roy went this way.

I didn't look back as we entered the woods. I didn't want to watch as the town I grew up in went up in flames, choosing instead to strap myself into the safety harness Roy installed specifically for off-roading.

Neither of us spoke for a long time. The only sounds were our bodies straining against the harnesses and the engine roaring as Roy manually switched the gears. I did nothing but watch as the forest flew by, feeling strangely disconnected from the situation.

This couldn't be real. This whole situation was completely impossible. How could my life go from completely normal one day to absolute chaos the next? Actually, fuck my life, how could the _world_ turn into absolute chaos in one day? People turning into zombies? You have to be _fucking_ kidding me! I thought the end of the world was supposed to be caused by rich men sitting in a stuffy little room, pressing the button to launch the nukes. Or a natural fucking disaster that changed the face of the earth?

What caused this? Biological warfare? Was it a naturally evolving disease?

Eventually the silence must have become too much for Roy, because he jabbed the buttom to start the radio. As soon as if clicked on, the blaring of the emergency alert came through the speakers. _This an emergency alert. This is not a drill. All citizens of Montgomery County and surrounding areas are instructed to stay inside their homes and await further instructions. This is not a drill._

We listened to the emergency message three times before Roy sighed and turned off the radio. Not long after the forest began to thin out and we approached a large expanse of grassland.

"Do you know where you're going?" I asked, the words out of my mouth before I even realized I spoke.

"Sure, sorta," Roy said off-handedly. "Been a good ten years since I've been up here, but I got a pretty good idea where we're goin'. Should be a dirt road around here somewhere," he told me.

We drove for what seemed like hours, but also minutes. Out here away from civilization, the events of the last twelve hours seemed unreal. A bad dream.

"Ah look, there it is!" Roy said excitedly, pointing. I looked and there was indeed a small gravel road cutting through the grassland. It was barely wide enough to accommodate Roy's massive truck, and if he hadn't pointed it out to me, I never would have seen it. "Just gotta follow this bad boy all the way till we get there. I'd say about another hour," he informed me.

I must have fallen asleep somehow, because I woke up to Roy shaking me, telling me we were there. Apparently he had already unloaded the truck while I had been sleeping, not wanting to wake me. I felt too exhausted, both mentally and physically, to properly show my gratitude. Instead, I focused on getting my safety harness undone. After a few moments of struggling, I finally managed to get free, opening my door and jumping to the ground below.

The cabin before me looked like a piece of shit. It was small, maybe two rooms, with warped walls that gave it an expanded, curved look. I didn't have it in me to be disappointed, though. It was a place far away from civilization and that meant safety.

"Doesn't look like much from the outside, I know. But looks can be deceiving," Roy told me, seemingly reading my thoughts. "I told you, my gramps was a fucking genius. Just wait."

We entered the cabin, and I looked around, still not very impressed. It looked just as small inside as it did outside, if not smaller. There was a wood stove and island counter in one corner, a mattress in the other, and a rotten couch located in front of the fireplace.

"Come on, we're going downstairs," Roy said, drawing my attention away from my dismal inspection of the room.

"Downstairs?" I repeated, following him over to the corner where the stove was located. He kneeled down before the island counter, gently pushing the side inwards. I heard a faint click and then the side panel swung open like a door. I crouched next to him, letting out a surprised gasp. Where there should have been nothing was a flight of stairs, descending into darkness below.

"Gramps built this cabin to look like shit on the surface, but the real kicks are in the secret basement. I'll show you," he said, after laughing at my surprised reaction. He had to turn around and climb down the stairs backwards because of the steep downwards angle.

I went to follow him down when he called up to me, "See that latch on the door? Slide the lever over to lock it," he instructed. I followed his directions before continuing my descent. When I was about halfway down, Roy managed to shuffle his way through the darkness and light an old oil lantern.

Light invaded the space, and I was surprised at how nice it was. It was much bigger than I expected it to be, only slightly smaller than my apartment had been. It had the look of a finished basement, with decent carpeting and high ceilings. Well, they were high for me, anyway. Roy was 6'3" and he had to crouch a little.

"Wow," I said as I reached the bottom of the stairs. "Nice digs. I guess this is what they meant when they said don't judge a book buy it's cover," I said in an attempt to joke, though my voice fell flat. I walked around the room, checking out the small hallway that branched into two small rooms. There was a lumpy cot in each room, with bedside tables and a single unlit oil lamp on each one.

"Got a supply closet down here stocked full of MREs and oil for the lamps," Roy told me, coming up from behind. "Why don't you go get some rest? You'll have plenty of time to check it out in the morning," he suggested.

I nodded. I was exhausted, so I wasn't going to argue. I started shuffling my way toward one of the rooms before stopping and turning around to face Roy. I looked at him for a moment before lunging forward and wrapping my arms around his waist, pulling him close.

"Thank you, Roy," I said, my voice muffled against his chest. "Thank you for getting me out of there. Thank you for not leaving me behind."

Roy was stiff at first, but eventually he returned the hug, giving me a little squeeze around thr sholders. "Don't mention it, pipsqueak. And..." he trailed off for a moment, placing both his hands on my shoulders and pulling me away from his chest to look me in the eye, "I'm sorry about your mom. She was a good lady, and I know she loved you," he told me.

I nodded dumbly, before turning back and heading into one of the bedrooms. I flopped down onto the mattress face first, paying no mind to the squeak of the cheap metal frame. I fell asleep almost as soon as my head hit the pillow.

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><p><strong>AN: Well, there it is! I have a couple more chapters written so far, but I'm not going to lie, my continuation of the story will most likely rely on reader interest. So please let me know what you think! Did you like it? Do you think it's too far fetched? Can't wait for more? Wish I'd never posted it in the first place? Let me know!**


	2. Hope for the Best but Expect the Worst

**Author's Note:**

**Thank you a bunch to my three reviewers and everyone else who read the first chapter. I hope you guys continue to enjoy this story and find it interesting. I wanted to post the second chapter reasonably soon, as it's mostly an informative chapter. We learn about what happens in the first few days of the outbreak as well as some more information about Avery's dealings with the corpses. The next chapter is already written (and boy, was it a doozy to write) but most likely won't be posted until sometime next week, once the fourth chapter is complete.**

**Without further ado...**

**Standard Disclaimer: I do not own ****_The Walking Dead_****. I bow to the copyright of AMC and Robert Kirkman. The only thing I own are my OC characters and their likeness.**

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><p>.<p>

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Staying at the cabin with Roy didn't feel like we were experiencing the end of the world. It felt like a long, boring vacation out in the middle of nowhere.

Roy insisted we stay in the basement almost always, except when our more basic urges came to a head. There was an outhouse a couple hundred feet away from the cabin that we used. It was almost funny the way Roy made us go outside as a pair, both armed and ready to fight to the death just to take a piss.

We hadn't encountered any zombies since we fled the city five days ago. Roy had managed to get his grandfather's old radio to work the night we arrived and picked up a frequency where someone was broadcasting a channel dedicated solely to information about the zombies, though the broadcaster preferred to call them 'corpses'. I liked that, and started using it myself. It seemed more real and less like something out of a Hollywood slasher film.

No one seemed to know where or how the outbreak started. There were plenty of theories, all more impossible than the last. The only thing we knew for sure was that the infection popped up in large cities all over the globe almost simultaneously, about seven days ago. The different governments around the world had tried to contain it, but to no avail so far.

As of now, the only known ways to become infected were to be bitten or scratched. Minor cuts and abrasions were okay as long as they were properly attended to in a timely manner, but the longer one waited to clean the wounds, the less likely they'd be alright. Deep lacerations were impossible to treat. I remembered the scratches on my mother's back vividly, the way that the flesh had been torn and scraped with greenish yellow puss leaking out around the wound.

There had never been any saving of my mother. She'd been dead long before I had even known anything was wrong.

That was another thing about getting scratched; the infection rate was slower than if one were bitten. Victims felt symptoms similar to that of the flu before eventually slipping into a coma. When they woke, they weren't the same person they were when they went to sleep.

If one were to encounter a corpse, one was to either run for their life or aim for the head. '_The only way to kill 'em is to brain 'em'_, as Roy explained to me. There was no talking or reasoning with a corpse. It didn't matter if it was once your mother, your father or your best friend. They were gone. All that remained was a shell of their former selves; the place where their souls used to be replaced by an insidious desire for human flesh.

Reports stated that the corpses hunted primarily by scent but also by sound. Their vision was greatly reduced. I remembered my mother's cloudy, unseeing eyes and shivered.

Roy falsely assumed that I had killed my mother. He never asked me, but I knew that that was the conclusion he came to. I couldn't bring myself to explain what really happened.

It was too surreal, especially while out in the middle of nowhere, to think about the events of that night. Not only surreal, but it didn't make sense. Everything I had heard since we arrived at our little sanctuary in the woods stated that corpses did only one thing: attack and eat people.

Only that hadn't happened to me. I had encountered two corpses in my complex and neither had gone in for the kill, or even acknowledged my existence. Maybe if it had just been my mother's corpse that had left me alone, I could chalk it up to some leftover piece of her humanity. But the guy in the stairwell? Why hadn't he come at me?

The only theory I had was that for some reason far above my ability to understand, I was invisible to the corpses. Maybe I didn't smell like food to them? Whatever it might be, I certaintly couldn't test it out here, where corpses didn't exist anywhere other than in horror movies. Not that I was particularly eager to test it; afterall, what if I were wrong?

Roy had grown increasingly agitated over the course of the last three days. Apparently he had called his sister before I had shown up for work the day we fled the city, telling her what was happening and instructing her to pack up and head for this cabin. She lived only a couple counties across the border in Georgia, and it should not have taken her so long to arrive.

"Its not like her, Avery. She should've been out the door within an hour of getting off the phone with me," he told me, pacing the small living room like a madman. "Something must have stopped her from leaving. She would have been here otherwise."

I stayed silent, knowing that pointing out the obvious would only result in a blow up from Roy. Obvious as in maybe it was a corpse eating her face off that stopped her from coming. Yeah, that would definitely start an argument.

"–have to go find her, get her out of there–" Roy was muttering, mostly to himself.

"Wait, what? You wanna do what now?" I interrupted him.

"I said that I need to go and find her," Roy repeated. "I've got to go get her out of that town. She's probably holed in that shithole of an apartment, low on provisions since she never goes fucking grocery shopping and–" Roy rambled on, more agitated than I'd ever seen him.

"You and what army, Roy? You saw what it was like in town. Douglasville is even bigger. That means more corpses," I interrupted him again, trying to appeal to his logical side. "It's too dangerous."

"Yeah, so? I don't give a fuck if there _are_ more corpses crawling around. I've got my truck and I've got my guns, I'll punch through it."

I could tell that he was determined from the tone of his voice. The man was as stubborn as a mule, and once he had made up his mind there was no changing it. I sighed, plopping down on the surprisingly comfortable couch that our small living room offered.

"So when are we leaving?" I asked.

"Who's 'we', white woman?" he shot back almost immediately. "Your scrawny ass is staying here."

"Are you kidding me, Roy?! The fuck if I am! You can't go all by yourself with no one to watch your back. That's, like, fucking asking for it!" I snapped, outraged.

"I can and I _will_," he said firmly. "I'm not gonna put you in danger, pipsqueak. You're safe here, you have plenty of supplies, you can–"

"I can what, Roy?" I interrupted. "I can sit here underground and hide for the rest of my life? Sit around and wait for you to come back? If you even _do_ come back? No," I said, shaking my head vehemently, "No fucking way. I'm not going to live here without you. I'm going with you whether you like it or not."

"You're still a kid, Avery. You're just a fucking kid," Roy said, his voice catching on the last word. He plopped next to me on the couch, cradling his head in his hands. "You shouldn't see the type of things that are going on out there. I'm just trying to protect you."

I felt my irritation soften at his words, and I sighed. "I understand that, Roy. But you can't protect me from this. Until they make some type of cure, this is the world we live in."

Now it was Roy's turn to sigh. He was silent for a long time before finally rising to his feet. "We leave come daybreak, then," he spoke, before heading into one of the bedrooms and shutting the door behind him.

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Roy woke me up before the sun rose. He didn't say much as we loaded up the truck. Enough fuel for there and back. Enough provisions for a week for each of us and a week for his sister, just in case. Guns. Lots and lots of guns and ammo, but not even a fraction of what was down in the basement.

We hopped in the cab and took off just as the sun's red rays started splitting across the horizon. Silence permeated the air between Roy and I, and I knew he was thinking about his sister. Wondering if she was okay. Worrying about if she wasn't. Stress lined his face and he chewed on the inside of one of his cheeks, his eyes never once leaving the path in front of us.

"You should pay attention to where we're goin', pipsqueak," Roy said gruffly. "Looking at my old buzzard face ain't gonna help you if you need to come back on your own," he told me.

"What's that supposed to mean? This ain't a fucking suicide mission, Roy," I said adamantly. "You're gonna come back. Both of us are. Your sister, too." I refused to consider the alternative. I couldn't live out in the wilderness all alone.

"My gramps used to tell me to hope for the best but expect the worst. Seems to me like that's a pretty good way to go about life, especially now that everything's gone to shit," was all he said before falling back into his contemplating silence.

I held back a sigh, tearing my eyes away from him and forcing them forward. How Roy thought I would be able to remember the way was beyond me. I've never been known to have the best sense of direction. I couldn't even walk to school by myself until I was 12, because I always forgot the way.

In the end, it didn't matter. I knew I would be coming back with Roy or not coming back at all. I meant what I had told him the night before; I wasn't going to live in that cabin in the woods without him. I couldn't be alone out there and I wouldn't be.

We drove for hours and hours, only stopping to use the bathroom or refuel. Roy stuck to all country roads, roads that he had driven many times in the years before the outbreak. He stayed away from major highways because we knew from listening to the radio reports that most were clogged with abandoned cars.

After a while, the silence became deafening. I couldn't take it anymore and punched the botton on the dash to turn the radio on. I didn't care if it was just the emergency alert playing on repeat, at least it was _something._

_This is an emergency alert. This is not a drill. Governor Watson has called a statewide State of Emergency. People are instructed to stay in their homes until relief efforts are able to arrive. All those in Fulton County and surrounding areas are advised to make their way to the CDC camp located at Morehouse School of Medicine in Atlanta, GA if at all possible. Please proceed with caution. This is an emergency alert. This is not a..._

Roy punched the power button on the radio with one hand before returning it to the steering wheel. His grip was so tight that his knuckles were white.

"Do you think she might have went there?" I asked after a few moments.

"If she did she's a fucking idiot. I told her to stay away from the big cities," Roy growled. "If she's not at her apartment, we'll have to go there next."

I didn't say anything. I remembered the way I had begged Roy to let me go look for my mother, even though he had known it would be dangerous. I imagine that the look of desperation that was currently in Roy's eyes had also been in mine that morning. Who was I to tell him the risks and dangers? He wasn't stupid. He knew just as much as I did what we were walking into, and he was willing to risk it for his sister. She was his blood.

As tempting as it was to put oneself in a box and shut out the rest of the world, where would that get you? Sure, one might be stay alive, but being alive isn't the same thing as _living_. At least, it never used to be. If we were to forsake the things that made us human–things like the love for one's family, compassion for others, the will to sacrifice in order to achieve something bigger–then what seperated us from the corpses?

Around the time the sun set, Roy began looking for a place we could stop and rest for the night. He loathed to do it, I could tell, but he knew we needed our rest for what would happen tomorrow. We were only about an hour outside of the town limits and Roy was edgy as he pulled off the road and into someone's driveway. It was a house without any neighbors, and Roy cut the engine as soon as we came to a stop, not wanting to attract any corpses that may be near by with the sound.

"You stay here," he told me as he reached for the door handle. "I'm gonna go inside and check for any corpses. If I don't come out to get you in 20 minutes, drive away. Got it?"

"Got it," I said, insincerely. No way was I letting him go in that house alone and there was zero chance I would ever drive off without him. Still, I told him what he wanted to hear and watched as he exited the truck and made his way to the house. Apparently the door was unlocked and he quickly disappeared inside. Once he did, I opened the center consul and pulled out the hunting knife and flashlight Roy kept there, before exiting the car and closing the door as quietly as possible behind me.

I tip toed my way into the house. It was quiet and dark, and I made my way gingerly through the foyer.

Not even two steps in, I heard a loud bang and crash from upstairs followed by the sound of Roy cursing. Then I heard a different, more sinister sound; a guttural moan and heavy, thumping footsteps. My feet were moving and climbing up the stairs before my mind could even comprehend the sound. As I came to the second landing I saw that the door down the hall was completely ajar and that the sounds of struggle were coming from that room.

I ran down the hall and once I reached the doorway I saw what was giving Roy a hard time. He had tripped over an oddly placed endtable at the foot of the bed, and the noise must have drawn the corpse to him. Now he was on the ground with his arms fully extended in front of him, trying to hold off the corpse that was threatening to eat his face off. The corpse's head was going in all directions to try to get a chunk out of him any where it could. Its arms were flailing, trying desperately to scratch at Roy's face.

Some long-dormant gene inside of me flared to life. Adrenaline pumped through my body and I ran towards the corpse. With all of the corpse's attention on Roy, it really wasn't that difficult to take the hunting knife and gouge it through the temple area of its head. I'll never forget how easily the sharp knife stabbed through the bone and into the corpse's brain matter. All semblance of life left the creature before me as it slumped to the ground beside Roy.

I stabbed it once more for good measure, this time right between the eyes.

After I was done I took two large steps back. The realization of what I'd done flooded me and I suddenly felt sick, but I had more important problems than that. I turned to Roy, disregarding the gore that had spurted from the thing's head like a geyser and landed across my chest.

"Did it bite you?" I demanded, my voice shaking. "Or scratch you?"

"I think it got a little nick on my chin,' Roy said as he sat up. I went over to his side, fumbling about in my bag for the first aid kit I had in there. I ripped open an alcohol swab and reached for his face with trembling fingers, but he stopped me.

"I got it, pipsqueak. Go get yourself cleaned up," he instructed as reached across the wooden floor for the first aid kit. It made a scraping sound against the floor as he dragged it closer.

"Are you sure it didn't bite you, Roy? Don't fuck around, I swear to God," I repeated. I didn't know what I would do if he told me that it actually got him, but I needed to know.

"Avery, I swear I'm fine. Fucker didn't get me too bad, just caught me at a bad time," he insisted as he finished cleaning out the small scratch on his chin. He put a bandaid on it and then stood up. "Go see if the shower's working, and if it is get yourself cleaned up. I'm gonna bring in some of our shit."

I nodded mutely, and turning around to exit the room when Roy spoke again. "Thanks, by the way. You know, for saving me. Knew I brought you around for a reason."

I smiled and rolled my eyes as I continued on in search for a bathroom. I found it and tried the light switch. To my extreme surprise and joy, I found that it worked and light flooded the room. At least someone was still working the powerlines. Hopefully that meant the shower still worked–yes! It did. I turned the hot water knob and did a small dance of glee when water spurted out of the faucet.

I stripped of my gore-covered clothes and left them on the floor before stepping under the warm spray. It was better water pressure than I had ever gotten at home, and I sighed contently and rested heavily against the wall. I noticed that there was only men hygiene products available but I could honestly care less. The man of the house certainly wouldn't be needing them anymore, and it was thanks to his undead ass that I needed the shower in the first place.

After I was done, I raided the small closet in the room to find towls, wrapping my hair with one and my body with the another. Making sure everything was properly tucked and secure, I opened the door to find that Roy had already put my bag of clothes at the door. I smiled at the gesture.

I dressed in my favorite sweatshirt with holes in the sleeves and loose fitting pajama bottoms that had sparkly snowflakes on them. The pajama pants used to be my mother's and for some reason that made them all the more special now.

That night we ate ravioli from a can that we found in the pantry. It was the best thing I'd ever eaten, which only served to show how awful the MREs that I had been eating were. After dinner Roy stated that one of us should get some sleep while the other stood watch. He offered to take the first watch, but I waved him off stating that he needed sleep more than I did. I had been able to nap during the ride here, afterall.

That's how I ended up sitting downstairs in the darkened living room, Opal sitting on my lap and the hunting knife on my left side. Every fifteen minutes or so I got up to check the windows, making sure that there were no outside dangers.

About an hour or so before I was set to wake Roy, I checked out the windows and saw that there was what appeared to be a corpse, stumbling its way through the yard. It didn't seem to be heading towards the house, more like wandering aimlessly.

I looked over my shoulder at the stairs, making sure that Roy hadn't woke up early. It wouldn't due to have him wake up in the middle of my experiment, contaminating my results. Drawing a breath to gather my courage, I headed towards the front door and exited through it quietly. I could feel the weight of Opal strapped to my hip and the weight of the hunting knife in my hand, seemingly getting heavier every step I took.

I walked gingerly down the front porch steps, never once taking my eyes off the shuffling corpse. He was drawing closer now, but it wasn't with any murderous intent. A breeze even came, filtering through my hair gently. He still didn't make any visable reaction. This was another check to my theory, as he was downwind of me. If the radio reports were to be believed, his far enhanced sense of smell should have detected me easily.

I stepped even closer still, my hand wrapped so tightly around the hunting knife that my fingers were starting to go numb. This was stupid and dangerous and I was scared, obviously, but something else overwhelmed that fear. It was a nagging sense in the back of my mind that I would be fine. This corpse wasn't going to hurt me.

The corpse was now about twenty feet away from me, walking along the road. He came within three feet of me at one point, completely ignoring my existence as he continued on his way. I studied him.

He had probably been a regulation hottie as a human. Though there were the telltale green legions all over his skin, if one was to look past it they would've been able to tell that his face had once been very aesthetically pleasing.

It was really too bad that his torso had been ripped open from the waist down, what was left of his internal organs dangling free in the open air for everyone to see. He had probably once had a really nice looking six pack over those intestines.

During my observations of him he had managed to get pass me, continuing his undead adventure down the road. He hadn't noticed me at all. I didn't know what to make of it. On one hand, I was elated. If the corpses couldn't smell me, I would be safe no matter where I went. I could fucking walk down a street full of them and be okay. During a zombie apocalypse, what better protection could you have? Invisible to the corpses. I couldn't fucking believe my luck.

On the other hand, it begged the question, why? Why didn't my scent attract them the way everybody else's did? As far as I knew, I had the same body chemistry as any other healthy human being. What made me different? And what did being different mean? Was I the solution to all of this? Was I the key to the cure?

"Hey, corpse!" I called down the road. I watched as his body snapped around at the noise to face me. His nostrils flared dramatically and he opened his mouth in a snarl. I calmly walked up to him, coming to a stop about two feet in front of him. His cloudy eyes slid right over my body.

I brought my hunting knife up in the air, stabbing him with it right between the eyes. He dropped to the ground in heap, landing at my feet. I made sure to position myself at an angle as I drew the knife out of his skull, managing to miss the greenish goo mixed with brain matter that spurted out of his head like a fountain once my blade was removed. I wiped the blade on what remained of the corpse's pants.

"You'd probably thank me for that. You know, if you were alive," I said to the body. "I'm sorry it ended this way."

I left him on the side of the road, heading back towards the house. Once inside, I locked the door behind me and headed up the stairs. Roy was in the bedroom that we hadn't killed the corpse in, passed out on the bed. He slept like a log, his snores echoing in the small room.

I shook him a few times before stepping back. He jumped at my touch, automatically reaching for his gun.

"Don't fucking shoot me, you idiot! It's me!" I snapped, though the confused look on Roy's face took most of the venom out of my voice.

"You alright? Is it time for my watch?" he asked after he absorbed my words.

"I'm fine. Everything's fine. Sorry to wake you, I just needed to tell you something," I explained. I was suddenly nervous. He surely wouldn't believe me when I told him. I know I wouldn't believe him, if the situation was reversed.

Roy looked at me expectantly. After a few minutes of silence on my part he spoke. "Well?" he asked. "What is it?"

"The corpses. They don't want to eat me," I blurted out.

He stared at me for a moment, his mouth open and a confused look in his eyes. "Uhh, Avery..." he started, apparently struggling for words. His tone of voice was hesitant and patronizing. "Look, kid, I know this whole thing is fucked up. I know you had to put down your mom, and that's even more fucked up," I opened my mouth to retort but he put his hand up to stop me before continuing. "I know its hard to deal with but the corpses _do_ want to eat you. They want to eat everyone. You have to accept that."

"I didn't kill my mom's corpse, Roy," I told him. "I walked into my bedroom and she was eating Miss Williams. She barely even looked my way."

"If that's the case, she already had a fresh meal in front of her. Maybe she wasn't concerned with you when she was already munching on dinner," Roy shot back. I could tell he wasn't trying to be an ass, but his doubt really irritated me for some reason.

"There was another one in the stairwell, when I was coming back out," I told him, frustrated. "We were in a tiny, confined space and he wasn't munching on anything. I walked right fucking past him."

Roy listened to me with his eyebrows furrowed. "Maybe...maybe he was newly bitten. Maybe you caught him while he was still more human than corpse," he offered, struggling to find some sort logic in what I was telling him. "Why are you just telling me this shit now, anyway?"

At his question, I chewed on my bottom lip ruefully, adverting my gaze. I sighed, pushing myself off of the side of the bed. I walked over to a window, staring out at the night sky as I wrapped my arms around myself.

"I don't know, Roy. It's just so unreal. While we were at the cabin everything seemed so impossible, you know?" I tried to explain. "I kept going between trying to rationalize it in my mind and wondering if I was making up what I saw. I mean, why me? I've never been anything special and I've never been paticularly lucky," I said. It was true. My life had been a difficult stuggle since I was very young. I've lost count of the times life decided to dump on me. "But it's true. I just tested it. I don't know how or why, but corpses don't attack me. I don't think that I smell like food to them."

"What do you mean, you tested it?" Roy asked, this time sounding angry.

"There was a corpse walking around outside. I went out there to get rid of it, but also because I wanted to see if I was imagining things that night in the city. I shit you not, Roy, the thing walked within three feet of me. Didn't even blink an eyelash my way."

"That was really fucking dangerous, Avery!" Roy yelled, his anger overtaking him. "You can't just fucking walk around with no one to watch your back. What if you were wrong?" he asked.

My heart soared, "So you believe me?" I asked hopefully.

"I believe that _you_ believe it," Roy corrected, and my joy noticeably dampened. "I just want you to think before you do things like that. You won't get far thinking you're invincible."

I sighed loudly. "I don't think I'm _invincible_, Roy!" I argued. "I'm sure if for whatever reason I did get bit or scratched I'd turn into a corpse just like everyone else. All I'm saying is that the corpses don't seem predisposed to attacking me."

"I don't know what to think, pipsqeak," Roy said finally. "I mean, it would be fucking great if the corpses didn't want to eat you. It'd take a lot of worry off my mind. But I just don't know. Everything we've heard since this shit started says that–"

"–that corpses eat anything with a pulse. I _know_, Roy," I interrupted him. I turned away from the window to look at him out of the corner of my eye. "If you don't believe me, I'll just have to show you," I declared.

"What are you talking about?" he asked.

"Looks like we've got another undead friend coming this way. Watch out of this window, I'm gonna go show you what I mean," I told him.

"No fucking way! I'm going out there with you!"

"You can't. It'll smell you and you won't be able to see what I'm talking about. You fucking owe me from earlier, Roy. You stay here, got it? Watch out the window."

I left the room and headed outside. I had a point to prove.

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><p><strong>AN: I know, I know. What a weird place to end things. Anyway, other than that abrupt ending, I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Please let me know what you think in a review! Even if it's just a few words, it makes my day! Thanks for reading!**


	3. Too Young for Heroics

**Author's Note:**

**Hello everyone! I want to say thank you to all those who have put this story on their favorites and alerts. I hope you're all enjoying the story so far. That being said, an extra special thank you to my lovely reviewers: _katitat_, '_H._', _jazica_, and _gabby871_. You guys are the absolute best!**

**I'm really nervous about this chapter. I put my blood, sweat and maybe even a little bit of tears (okay, a lot of tears) into writing it and I'm really looking forward to reading your feedback!**

**Standard Disclaimer: I do not own _The Walking Dead_. I bow to the copyright of AMC and Robert Kirkman. The only thing I own are my OC characters and their likeness.**

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><p>.<p>

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In front of us was a huge pile up of cars across the width of the road. Roy and I hadn't expected the roads to be blocked so early within the city limits, and I could tell that it made him nervous. We'd have to go on foot from here to his sister's house.

"I'm gonna go check to see if there's any corpses on the other side of that pile up," I told Roy, reaching for the door handle. "Stay in the car. I'll give you a signal if it's safe."

He nodded tensely as I threw open the door and hopped out of the cab. I could tell he didn't like sending me out alone. It went against his very nature to send an ally out into danger with no backup. The fact that I was a seventeen year old girl didn't help much either as he felt that he should be the one looking out for me, not the other way around. But I had something that he couldn't really argue against; I was invisible to the corpses.

I had put on quite a display for Roy, knowing that he wouldn't believe me unless I gave him proof that left no room for doubt. First I had stood completely still as the corpse shuffled past me like I was nothing but a log on the side of the road. Then I chased after it, running a complete circle around it before coming to a stop and stabbing it in the head. Afterwards, there wasn't much Roy could do but believe me.

My feet hit the pavement and I closed the door as quietly as I could. Immediately a sense of foreboding filled me, and I had to force myself to walk carefully away from the truck. I headed over to where the cars were, casually checking inside to see if any corpses were in them. Seeing none, I carefully crawled over the hood of one of the cars and hopped off the other side.

It was spooky how empty the streets were. I looked around at the buildings for any signs of life and found none. Windows on buildings had been shattered, and stray pieces of paper littered the ground. I could see several buildings that had scorch marks on them and pieces of their infrastructure burned to a crisp, indicating that there had been large fires that broke out.

After standing about in absolute silence for a few moments, I flashed the hand signal Roy had taught me to indicate he could come out. I watched as he silently exited the truck, making his way over to a newspaper receptical and hiding the keys inside of it. Then he made his way toward me, gun out and ready.

"Gonna stick to back alleys, mostly. Make our way slow and careful," he told me once he was close. "Much as I hate to say it, you'll scout slightly ahead of me. Watch for blind corners."

"Yeah, I will," I assured him. We had gone through this dozens of times on the way here. "As long as you promise not to shoot that thing off at the first corpse you see. The noise'll draw every corpse in the city our way. Hand weapons only."

"Unless we get in a jam," Roy corrected me. "Then we'll push through any way possible. Guns included."

"Yeah, well, if we follow the plan, things should go smoothly," I said adamantly. "Let's get going."

I turned to walk down the road only to have Roy stop me by grabbing my arm. I looked back at him, confused. "What?" I asked, impatiently.

"Listen," Roy said, and I could tell by the sound of his voice that he was going to say something that I wouldn't like. "If we run into any trouble in the city, I want you to run back to the truck. Even if I'm not with you, you run. Got it?"

"Everything is gonna be fine, Roy. Nothing's gonna happe–"

"I'm not fucking around, Avery. You will do as I say. If we get caught out there, I'm the one they're gonna go for," he interrupted me angrily. "And if that happens, you're gonna run. You're gonna run to the truck, and then you're gonna drive back to the cabin. I left you a map in the dash. Do you understand? You're too young for heroics."

There was nothing to say so I simply nodded. Roy seemed to accept that, and we took off down the street.

It couldn't be understated how creepy the streets were. Never had I seen a city so completely still; no cars moving in the streets or people mulling about of either the living or the dead variety. It was the literal definition of 'ghost town'. Our footsteps seemed to echo off the pavement, every breath a scream into the void.

I walked five feet ahead of Roy at all times, keeping watch for corpses and checking corners for danger. About halfway to Roy's sister's house we finally encountered some. There were three corpses huddled over what used to be a dog, pulling apart at the poor thing's insides like a kid would tear open the wrapping on a presant. Roy and I dispatched them quickly with hunting knives, all of them too distracted with eating their kill to even look up before we ended their existence.

After we were done, Roy and I exchanged glances meaningfully. Now that we had finally seen some corpses in the area, we needed to be extra careful with our movements. The last thing we needed was a group of them converging on us; we needed to be the ones converging on them, taking them out before they even knew we were there.

We came across a few more stray corpses on the way, dealt with mostly by me. It was almost surreal how easy it was to kill them now. I felt no guilt or remorse as the blade I weilded punctured their skulls and sent their brain matter splattering onto the sidewalk. In fact, I felt something akin to pity as I ended their horrible unlives.

Roy and I were running along the alleys, close to his sister's house now. He was growing more and more agitated the closer we got to it and the more corpses we saw, running closer and closer to my side. I was too out of breath to tell him to stop. It felt like we'd been running through the city for hours and hours and getting no closer to our goal and I was exhausted. The cramp I felt in my side was like a stab wound and my lungs felt like I had breathed in fire, but pure determination drove me onwards.

The alley we were running through was coming to an intersection up ahead, and I slowed to check around the corner once again. Unlike the other times where the streets had been empty or maybe had a small group of corpses mulling about, this time there was a horde. I've used the word before but it had been an overstatement; I'd never seen anything like this. Hundreds and hundreds, maybe even a thousand of corpses taking up the entire street, wandering aimlessly and occasionally knocking into eachother. An involuntary whimper left my throat.

I felt Roy coming up behind me without waiting for my signal, as he had been doing the last few blocks. I turned around to face him, holding my arm out across his chest to stop his gait. I forced him to the wall, putting a finger to my lips to indicate him to be quiet.

I carefully led him to the edge of the wall so that he could see the horde that threatened to descend upon us and I watched his skin turn deathly white. He quickly looked away and grabbed my arm to haul me back the direction we came from. Two intersections down, we tucked into a side alley we had previously cleared out and stopped to catch our breath.

"Did you fucking see that?" I asked inbetween gasps for air. "There were so many of them all together in one place."

"Never seen anything like it," Roy admitted. His face was still deathly white, and sweat poured off of his skin like a faucet. I could smell him easily from where I stood, and all I could think of was how the corpses would be able to smell him a mile away.

"What do we do?" I asked.

He pulled out his map, unfolding it to see. "We're gonna double back. That herd of corpses stretches along the road we need to cross, but if we go back along this way, we can avoid that road and get to the complex from behind," he said, dragging his finger across the route we were to take. I had to hold back a groan. We had to double back almost all the way to where the truck was to get to where we needed to be. I was starting to believe that we'd never reach his sister's apartment.

"Roy, we'll never make it there before sundown if we go back that way," I argued. "We've got to find a way to get past them the way we intended to. We'll lose too much time otherwise."

"Yeah well that's not an option for me, pipsqueak," Roy said, tiredly. "Unlike you, I'm pretty sure I still smell like food to them. If I go walking past them, they _will_ try to eat me."

"But not me," I said hesitantly, knowing that he wasn't going to like my idea. "They won't smell me. I could walk past that horde, no problem. I can go get your sister for you and we can meet up somewhere to get out of the city."

"No, absolutely not. Its bad enough I've got you running in front of me like some kind of live bait," Roy said almost before I could get the words out of my mouth. "I'm not sending you alone."

"God dammit, Roy. We don't have time to argue about this," I said, my facade of patience finally snapping. "Every second we waste is burning daylight. Every minute we argue about this, your sister's chance of becoming a corpse's lunch gets bigger. So what's it gonna be?"

"How are you gonna get her out safe?" he asked me. "She's not like you and me, Avery. She doesn't keep her head straight when she hits the fan, doesn't know how to use weapons. She'll be nothing but dead weight," he said, despair creeping into his voice.

"Yeah, well, I'll figure something out. I'm a smart girl. If she's there, I'll bring her back," I said confidently. I didn't tell him that I didn't think his sister was going to be there to bring back. I would go to her complex and look for her, but a cold certainty filled my gut telling me that I wouldn't find her.

"I know you are, Avery," Roy said, and I could tell his resolve was wearing thin. I found myself smiling a little.

"Then let me handle it. I've got this, Roy. And I can be a hell of a lot faster if I'm not worried about you getting munched on by some corpse."

His shoulders sagged under the weight of my words. He knew I was right. "Well, go on then. Get going. I'll wait here," he said, his voice gruff, almost angry.

"No way, not out in the open like this," I told him, shaking my head. "Not with that horde of corpses inches away. You need higher ground. Remember that alley where we killed that group of corpses, the ones who were eating that dog?" He nodded. "There was a fire escape with the ladder down. Climb up it and pull the ladder up when you get to the top. Wait for me there," I instucted. "And whatever you do, do _not_ fire your gun. Even in a jam."

"I got it," Roy said. "Alright, that's where I'll go. I'll wait for you there," he agreed.

"Okay then. We'll meet you there," I said casually. I didn't want to make a big deal out us seperating. I felt like if I did, something bad would happen.

I took off down the road, away from Roy. I ran as quickly as my feet would carry me. I passed several corpses on my way, dispatching of them quickly. I didn't necessarily need to, as they weren't bothering me, but just in case I had to make my way back with Roy's sister, the less corpses mulling about the better we'd be.

I passed the horde of zombie that kept us from crossing earlier. I slowed to a walk as I neared them, not wanting to attract any sort of attention. As I walked through them, I watched as their eyes passed right over me like I was just another member of the living dead. The sheer number of them was horrifying, as if the whole city had become them. I kept an eye out for Roy's sister in the crowd of shuffling corpses.

I finally approached the complex that Roy's sister lived in, only to find the place nearly overrun. Corpses were shuffling about across the lawn aimlessly, pouring into the street. How the hell was I supposed to get his sister out of here? I looked around at the buildings, trying to formulate some sort of escape route, should I find her. I couldn't see how it would be possible, but continued on anyway.

I walked up to the front door, swinging it open and hurrying inside. There were at least a dozen corpses in the main lobby, and all of them looked up and startled at the sound of the door shutting. I hurried away from the area as they started to snarl and head towards the sound. For a moment, I just stared. If I were to start attacking them with so many in such a small place, I'd draw attention to myself. I might be hidden from them but stabbing their brains out would make noise, and noise would draw them to me.

Deciding to wait until after I looked for Roy's sister to deal with the corpses, I headed up the stairs. Roy told me that his sister's apartment was on the third floor, apartment C4, and I carefully and quietly made my way towards it. So far, things weren't looking good for her. Corpses were at every turn, stumbling about and groaning hungrily.

I approached her door but hesitated. It was slightly ajar and that wasn't a good sign. I pulled my hunting knife out of my belt and gripped it tightly in one hand before slowly inching the door open with my other.

As soon as I entered, I heard the telltale groaning of a corpse. My heart plummeted as I stepped further inside, closing the door behind me. I immediately started to try to locate the sound, my footsteps muted by the crusty shag carpeting. I walked through the living room and into the kitchen when I found it.

Before me stood what used to be a young woman. I had never seen Roy's sister in person but Roy had shown me a picture of her. The corpse in front of me had the same vibrant red hair as the girl in the picture had, the same golden locket around her neck. A large part of her shoulder was missing. I looked around her and saw a body on the ground.

A corpse must have gotten in. She must've managed to fight it off and kill it, but not before it got a chunk out of her. Her corpse had been stuck in this apartment the whole time. This rescue mission had been a failure before it even began.

My vision began to blur as I shifted the blade in my grasp. I knew what Roy would want me to do. This one wasn't like the others I'd taken down, though. Those had been strangers, people I'd never known. Even though I had never met her before, this was personal because of her connection to Roy.

My knife connected with her head in a split second, before she even realized what was coming her way. She crumpled to the ground, but I could still see her legs still twitching. I pulled the blade out of her skull and stabbed again, her rotten flesh bursting open around the wound.

I hurled myself away from the body, quickly losing my breakfast of eggs and toast on the linoleum floor. My legs felt weak but I forced myself back into an upright position. It wouldn't do to to lose my shit in the middle of this nasty apartment. I had to get back to Roy and get out of this city before sundown.

But I knew I needed to do one more thing before I left. I forced myself to kneel next to what used to be Roy's sister, looking down at the violence I had inflicted upon her. With shaking fingers, I reached behind her neck to unclasp the necklace that rested there. I held the weight of the golden locket in my palm for a moment, treasuring the beauty of the small object. I ran my finger over the smooth surface, noting how Roy's sister's initials had been carved into the surface. A.C. for Amanda Carson. Oddly enough, we shared the same initials.

I spent a few moments looking around the apartment to see if there was anything of use to take. Roy hadn't been lying when he had told me his sister would have no provisions. She had nothing: no bottled water, no food, no batteries. Even if she hadn't been a corpse, she would have died from lack of resources before we had gotten to her.

Failure sitting uncomfortably in my stomach, I headed out of the apartment. I didn't bother the corpses in the hallways and they didn't bother me, so I made good time. I was out of the apartment complex in under five minutes. Corpses still splattered around the area aimlessly and I waited until I was away from the vast majority of them before I broke out into a run.

The sun was beginning to set on the horizon, the sky lit up all red and orange. It casted a spooky glow on the city and the corpses, making their grayish-green skin look almost human again. It was a sharp juxtaposition with their mangled, gore-covered bodies. I noticed they were walking around with a bit more purpose than they had earlier, their faces all contorted in snarls. Maybe they were hungry? Maybe they became more active when the sun set?

Either way, I knew we needed to get out of the city immediately. We could not be here when it got dark. With this in mind, I ran even faster towards my meeting spot with Roy. I came into the alley where he was supposed to be and was glad beyond words to see him up on the fire escape, exactly where I told him to go. There was a group of three corpses at the bottom of it, arms reaching up to try to get at him. I rushed over, dispatching of them easily.

"Avery! Jesus Christ, am I glad to see you!" Roy called down in joy, but I watched his face as his mind comprehended the obvious fact. I was alone. "Amanda?" he asked, his voice so quiet that I could barely heard it from my position on the ground.

I grimaced and shook my head. "Already dead when I got there," I told him. I pulled the locket out of my pocket and held it up for him to see.

His face crumpled for only a split second before abruptly hardening again. He nodded before bending over to lower the ladder. He climbed down quickly, jumping the three feet of air that hung below the ladder to the ground. I held the locket out to him to take, but he simply shrugged it off. "Keep it, it'll look better on you anyway."

I frowned, pocketing the necklace. "We've got to get out of here fast, Roy. They seem to be moving around a lot more now that the sun's going down."

"Yeah, I noticed. Do you think we should just find somewhere to stay for the night?" he asked.

I was surprised he was asking my opinion. "What, so we can be trapped in the city tomorrow when the horde moves our way? Absolutely not. We need to get to the truck and out of the city _tonight_."

"Lead the way, then," he directed, tightening his grip on the gun in his hands. I nodded and took off down the street, him following close behind.

I'd been right when I said the corpses were becoming more active. Where most of the alleys that we had past through before had been empty, now there were corpses at every turn. Roy seemed to be taking his grief and anger out on them, busting their skulls open with a vicious intensity. He wasn't following the plan we had set up where I would scout ahead and clear the danger, but there were so many of them that it almost didn't matter. My heart hammered wildly in my chest and fear was ice in my veins, but Roy and I continued on.

Roy came to a stop a couple blocks away from the truck. His chest and shoulders were heaving from the effort of slaying corpses as we ran for our lives, every breath he took a strangled gasp for air. I felt it with him. My whole body felt like it had been through a meat pulverizer, but my legs and feet were the worst. My legs felt like bricks and every step I took they became heavier. My heart pounded loudly in my ears.

"Can't...stop..." I managed to gasp. "Roy, we've...got to keep going," I told him. We were so close to where we needed to be but there were so many corpses about now.

"Can't...breathe," Roy choked out. His breathing sounded wet and he began to cough up phlegm.

"_Shhh_!" I hissed, casting my eye about the alley we were in. It was empty for now, but not for long if Roy kept that hacking shit up. "You and your fucking cigarettes! Keep it down or you're gonna get us killed!" I whispered-yelled at him. He shoved his fist against his mouth and tried to hold the coughs inside, his shoulders trembling with the effort.

Holding back a groan, I looked over my shoulder at the setting sun. It was barely a red blot on the horizon, slipping ever lower. Shadows casted in the alley we were in, and it was more night than day now. We needed to keep moving.

"Listen Roy, I'm gonna scout ahead a little bit. Make sure the next few alleys are clear. You wait here and I'll come back for you, okay?" I told him.

He nodded, "Okay, Avery," he conceded between gasps. "I'm sorry, pipsqeak," he told me as I turned to leave. "I just can't catch my breath."

I turned back to look at him, a small smile reaching my lips. I bet he had never guessed in a million years that I'd be the one watching out for him. "It's okay, Roy. I'll be right–"

_I'll be right back_ is what I meant to say. The sentence went unfinished as my gaze reacted to movement on the ground beside Roy. It happened in only a split second. There was a corpse, one that we had disregarded during our sweep of the alley. We had thought that it was dead; afterall, it was only the upper half of a body. It must have dragged itself along the alley, inching closer and closer to us unnoticed. I saw as it reached it's arms out to grab at Roy's calf, its mouth open and ready to chow down. I yelled out to Roy, but by the time he looked down it was too late. The corpse tore its teeth staight through the denim of Roy's jeans and into the flesh.

I ran to him, bringing down my blade onto the corpse's skull in an instant. It was still too late. I could see the chunk it took out of Roy's leg easily.

"Oh, fuck! Oh fuck, Roy! It bit you!" I said, my voice trembling.

Roy, for his part, was extremely quiet. Even when the corpse took a chunk out of him, he didn't scream. Even now, he only groaned as he lost his balance and fell on his ass to the pavement.

"Roy, what do I do?!" I asked, my vision blurring rapidly. The tears spilt out onto my cheeks in a steady flow. "Oh shit, Roy. Oh fuck," my hands were shaking as I knelt down and pulled at the bottom of his pants, rolling it up to the knee. The skin around the bite was already turning black, the inside red and inflamed. The fucking corpse bit right through to the bone of his ankle. I noted that there was a black line following up a vein on the back of his calf.

Roy grabbed my hands, taking them into his much larger ones easily. "Avery," he said, his voice watery. I looked up at his face and saw tears in his eyes. That's when I knew it was over. Roy never cried, not ever. That he was only went to prove that he was already gone. "You've got to get out of here. You said yourself, you're faster without me. You have to go," he said, pushing my hands away gently.

"No, no, no," I repeated as sobs racked my chest and I shook my head. "No Roy, no. I'm not leaving you, Roy. I'm not going to leave you alone."

"You've got to, pipsqeak. You've seen the wound," he told me through his own tears. "I'm infected. I can't go with you. You need to go back to the cabin. Stay away from Atlanta."

"I can't go there alone, Roy! I can't go without you. Please, please don't leave me, Roy. Please. You're all I have," I begged him, throwing myself into his arms and crying against his chest.

"Avery, watch out!" Roy said, pointing behind us. My sobbing must have drawn some nearby corpses our way. I was up on my feet in an instant, snarling. I dispatched the corpses quickly, each with a stab to the head. The last one I stabbed over and over, taking my frustration out on it before I remembered I had more pressing matters to attend to. I scampered back to Roy, falling to my knees before him.

"I'm sorry, Avery," Roy said, after a few moments of me just staring at him. "We never should have come here. You knew that from the beginning. I should have listened to you."

"What else is new?" I asked, drawing a small laugh from Roy.

We were silent for a few more moments, the only sound between us the sound of Roy's erratic breathing. "I'm not gonna become one of those things, Avery," he told me suddenly. "I can already feel it. I can feel it working it's way through me. I can see things when I close my eyes."

He reached for the gun in his belt, clicking off the safety. "Wait, Roy, you can't," I cried, reaching for the gun. He slapped my hands away.

"This is my choice, Avery. I told you, I'm not going to become one of those things. I won't do it," he said adamantly. "I'm sorry for having to fire this shot. You should get going. You don't want to be here when they all start coming," he told me. His voice was strong.

"I'm not leaving you, Roy," I argued, grabbing his hand that didn't have the gun in it. As horrifying as the thought of watching Roy kill himself was, it was no more horrifying than thinking of him dying alone. "I'm going to stay with you. Until the end," I said, squeezing his hand tightly and forcing myself to smile through my tears.

My words seemed to break down the facade of courage Roy had been putting up and he sobbed, tears and snot running down his face. "I'm scared, Avery," he finally admitted. "Will you pray with me?" he asked.

I was shocked to say the least, as Roy had never been a religious man. I hadn't ever been particularly religious, either. Though I suppose a man looking down a barrel of a gun had every right to fear his Maker. I nodded, launching into the only prayer I knew.

"_Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee,_" I choked out, his voice joining mine quickly. I couldn't stop the tears that poured down my cheeks, but I kept my voice strong for Roy. "_Blessed art thou amongst women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus_," Roy's grip on my hand was a vice, squeezing the blood out of my fingers with the force of his fear. I squeezed back as hard as I could, my other hand going to cup his cheek, letting him know he wasn't alone. He stared deep into my eyes as if looking into my soul, before slowly closing his eyes as I started the last verse. My voice shook for the first time. "_Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death_."

The gunshot rang in my ears as I watched Roy's finger press the trigger. Blood arked through the air as his head snapped sideways at the force of the blow, coming to rest at an odd angle on his shoulder. Gravity forced Roy's weight to slide down the length of the wall, landing sideways on the ground.

"_Amen_," I sobbed. The corpses were already heading down both sides of the alley now, drawn by the sound. I needed to move, as much as I didn't want to. I let go of Roy's hand and it fell to the ground with the rest of him.

I grabbed Roy's gun and didn't look back as I ran. Corpses were pouring into the alley, some even bumping into me in their haste to get to Roy's still nearly alive flesh. Even when they hit me, they paid me no mind. I didn't stop running till I reached Roy's truck.

I reached into the newspaper receptical, pulling the keys out. I threw my bags into the bed of the truck before unlocking the doors and climbing inside.

I sat in the seat for a moment, simply staring. The seat was too far back, the rearview mirror all at the wrong angle. All signs of Roy's touch. This was Roy's truck, not mine. I caught sight of my reflection, seeing bits of blood spattered across my face. Roy's blood.

I sobbed as I jammed the key into the ignition, firing it to life. With my hand that wasn't on the wheel, I shifted through the gears manually to put it in reverse. Roy had taught me how to drive stick, back in the day. Said there was no other way to drive. Just another way he had looked out for me.

The engine roared as I turned the truck around, heading back in the direction Roy and I had originally come from. I knew I wasn't going back to the cabin, but I had know clue as to where I _would_ go.

I stared down the open road before me, trying to hold back my panic. In this world of the undead, where was my place?

.

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><p><strong>AN:**

***blows nose loudly***

***clears throat***

**Well, there it is. I really have no words. Siiigh. It had to happen, as much as I loved Roy. Anyways, please let me know what you think by leaving a review.**

**In case anyone is wondering, I've currently completed chapter 4. It'll be I posted some time next week, after I finish chapter 5. As of right now, Avery will meet up with the Atlanta Group at the end of chapter 5/beginning of chapter 6. At least, that's the plan.**

**Anywho, I digress. See you next week! xoxo**


	4. Days Gone Bye

**Author's Note:**

**Hello everyone! I just wanted to say thank you to all those reading this story and putting it on your alerts and favorites. An extra special thank you to my kick-ass reviewers: _ObjectiveObserverFromAfar_, '_H_.', _masseffectrulz_, _my-forgotten-rose, gabby871 _and_ freestoner13._ You guys and gals are absolutely wonderful.**

**To answer the question as to why Avery didn't just hack Roy's leg off, there's a couple of reasons. First off, she's living in the very first few weeks of the outbreak, the time that we didn't see too much of in the show because Rick is in the hospital. She has absolutely no idea that immediate amputation would have been able to spare Roy. Secondly, while Avery might be a badass, she has no medical training other than the basics. If she would've hacked his leg off, he definitely would have bled out long before Avery would have known what to do. And thirdly, I couldn't have Avery hacking at his leg to try and save him for plot reasons. Roy needed to die for this story to go on. Simple as that. Lol.**

**As always, I'm dying for your reviews! Please let me know what you think, even if its just a few words. It makes me happy, and then I write faster! Anywho, let's continue. **

**Standard Disclaimer: I do not own _The Walking Dead_. I bow to the copyright of AMC and Robert Kirkman. The only thing I own are my OC characters and their likeness.**

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><p>.<p>

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I needed to find a place to stay. Somewhere far, far away. I needed to ditch the truck, as much as I didn't want to. It was too loud, took too much fuel, and was too difficult to drive. I had enough provisions for three weeks, but I knew I should start scavenging as soon as I could. I would go into areas heavily populated by corpses, and maybe find supplies that normal people hadn't gotten to yet.

These were the thoughts I forced myself to think. I kept everything else out of my head. All the grief and trauma I had experienced today would have to wait until later. For now, I was out in the open. Moving, but still exposed.

I didn't know where I was going. I never was good at directions, but I had found a rural road and stuck to it. The silence in the truck was palpable, only serving to further pronounce Roy's absence. The truck groaned as I forgot to shift the gears, threatening to stall out on me. Pulling my thoughts out of the dangerous direction they were heading, I shifted gears and forced myself to focus on the open road in front of me.

After driving for what seemed like hours, my adrenaline started to wear off. The events of today were starting to catch up with me, and I felt my eyelids beginning to droop. I needed to find a place to stay, and soon, before I fell asleep at the wheel.

The road I was on converged with a smaller street, into what looked like a small town. I'd hardly call a gas station on one side and a general goods store on the other side of the road a town, _per se_, but it was something. A touch of civilization. Houses were probably nearby.

I pulled the truck to a stop in front of the general goods store, cutting the engine as soon as the truck stilled. I sat in the truck for a moment, waiting to see if there were any corpses in the area that would appear from the noise Roy's truck made.

Seeing none, I hopped out of the truck and closed the door quietly behind me. Flashlight in one hand and Opal in the other, I made my way into the store. To my dismay, as soon as I opened it a faint jingle reached my ears. There was a fucking bell on the door, tied to the inside handle. I ripped it off in frustration, throwing it to the ground.

I stayed near the door for a minute, listening for any telltale signs of moaning and snarling while flashing my light around the place. It was a disaster inside, shelves knocked over and items scattering the ground, but no corpses that I could see. I was relieved. A notice board caught my eye and I went over to it. There were flyers pinned all over the thing, as well as some pictures showing happy times. A community picnic, a surprise birthday party. This town must've been like a family.

I wondered if anyone from these pictures were still alive.

A flyer for a garage sale caught my eye. The date was for today, though I seriously doubted it was still on. What interested me was the small image of a map in the corner. It was one of those nifty ones people used to print from the internet with turn by turn instuctions beneath it. I took it off the wall and pocketed it.

I shined my flashlight around the chaos of the store, trying to see if there was anything of use. I found a couple cans of tuna that had rolled under one of the few remaining upright shelves, and six water bottles that must have fallen out of their original packaging. I walked behind the counter to see if anything had been spared back there.

Something metallic caught my eye from the floor and I leaned down to see what it was. It was a long hatchet, with a smooth wooden handle. I tested the weight in my hand, shifting my grip on the handle until I found a good positioning. Yeah, this would do better than my hunting knife. Much better.

After scouring the store for a few more minutes and finding some crackers and a bottle of vitamin supplements, I headed back outside. I hopped into the truck and fished out the flyer from my pockets. Hopefully I'd be able to follow this map because I was exhausted. The truck roared to life and I followed the map as best as I could.

After following the instructions surprisingly easily, I approached the house that was listed on the flyer in under an hour. It was a beautiful, Victorian-esque farmhouse, but I barely even noticed. The only thing I saw as I pulled into the driveway was the fact that there was a light on downstairs.

My heart was in my throat, soaring at what I saw before me. Someone must be inside. Far as I knew, corpses didn't turn lights on. The thought of seeing another living human being after the day that I had was almost too much for me to bear. I felt my vision tearing up as I climbed out of the cab, my feet hitting the gravel and stumbling.

There were cars in the driveway. I walked up to the house, towards the porch and front door. I could barely contain myself as I knocked on the door. "Is anyone in there? I'm trying to find shelter," I called, after no one responded. I pressed my ear against the door, trying to hear if there was any movement inside.

Suddenly, the door surged forward on its hinges, like someone was throwing themselves against the inside of it. I let out a surpised shriek, stepping back from the door hastily. I heard the telltale sounds of moaning and growling coming from inside.

Depression came over me in a wave. There wasn't anyone inside after all; just another member of the living dead. I leaned against the panneling of the porch, slowly sliding down to the ground. I felt like crying but the tears wouldn't come. Instead, I watched the door strain against its hinges as the corpse threw itself against it. I saw the handle jiggle erratically, and realized that it must be locked.

What was I going to do? If there weren't any people alive out here in the middle of no where, what chance did a big city like Atlanta have?

A horrible idea snuck into my mind. It had been growing and festering since I had fled Douglasville, but I hadn't let myself really consider it until now. _What if I were the only one left_? It seemed arrogant to even consider it. How could I possibly be the last woman standing in a world that was once filled to the brim with people?

Before I had really even considered what I was doing, I was digging in the recesses of my purse. I found what I was looking for; a bobby pin. With surprisingly steady fingers, I bent the small piece of wire till it snapped in half. Using the half that was flat, I bent it to make a make-shift tension wrench. I forced myself to stand, making my way to the door. I'd done this a million times, breaking into my own house whenever my mom locked me out to go on a fucking spree with her one of her boyfriends. Never thought I'd live to see the day when I would be grateful for my mother's shitty parenting.

I secured the wrench at the bottom of the lock, holding it steady with my thumb. It was difficult with the corpse messing with the door handle but I managed. I took the other half of the bobby pin and jiggled it inside the lock until I heard the faint _click_ of the locking mechanism. Then I lunged away from the door, heading to the corner of the porch to wait.

It didn't take long for the corpse to turn the handle and throw open the door. Once it did, its momentum carried it forward and it landed on the porch in a heap, tumbling down the front steps. Almost as soon as it hit the ground it was pulling itself to its feet, snarling. It turned around in a circle, growling and sniffing at the air hungrily.

I felt the weight of the hatchet in my hand as revulsion and hatred filled me. I watched the corpse that used to be a man shuffle about for a moment before I ran down the steps, swinging the hatchet at his head with vicious intensity. The blow landed square in the jaw and the head of the hatchet took most of it off, sending his teeth flying to the ground below.

The blow I landed stunned the corpse, and he fell backwards onto the ground once more. Despite the hatred and anger I felt, I ended his life with a quick blow to the head, busting his forehead open. I was too tired to fuck around.

I made my way back to the house, leaving the corpse's body to rot in the front yard. I closed the door behind me, locking it. The house was quiet, and I made my way carefully to the room where the light was. The fact that it was still on meant that the house ran on its own generator, maybe even had a well nearby to draw water. That was good. Still, for now I turned the lamp off. I didn't want the light attracting any corpses from outside.

I made through the downstairs, using my flashlight to illuminate my way. I couldn't help but notice, in a distant and detached sort of way, that it was the nicest house that I'd ever been in. The kind of house I had dreamed of living in as a little girl. Fine, polished wooden floors, neat trimming around the edges of walls that were covered in beautifully designed wallpaper. Framed photos lined the walls, most of them family portraits.

The downstairs was clear. I checked every nook and cranny, every broom closet and food pantry. No corpses anywhere.

A feeling of uneasiness pierced through my fog of detachment. I had recognized the man in the pictures as the corpse I had killed earlier. It only begged the question; where was the wife and two daughters I had also seen in the photographs?

I made my way up the stairs to the second floor, the feeling of uneasiness growing every step I took. A foul smell reached my nose about halfway there and I felt my stomach drop. I forced myself to continue onto the second landing, following the hallway to the first door I saw. I waited outside of it for a moment, listening for any noises inside. I heard none and I pushed the door open, stepping into the room.

I immediately wished I hadn't. The smell that I had been smelling was suddenly overwhelming. I shined my flashlight around, noting that I was in the master bedroom. My light landed on the large, California King bed and the sight that greeted me there had me bending at the waist, my hands on my knees as I dry-heaved.

There was a woman on the beautifully-made bed. Her body was positioned as if she were sleeping, peaceful as could be. It would be a perfect picture if not for her head being blown to bits, stray chucks of her brain matter and blood spanning out all over the pretty, decorative pillows.

I shut the door hurriedly, backing out into the hallway once more. A sense of dread filled me as I walked further down the hall, stopping at the next door. The outside of the door was decorated with pictures, all of them obviously done by a child. There was a sign that hung from a nail in the door reading: '_Lily and Astrid's room. No boys allowed_!' And then in under, in parentheses, was more tiny writing: '_(That means you too, Daddy!)_'.

I cleared my throat, trying to ignore the ball of emotion that gathered there. I forced my hand to turn the knob, gently swinging the door open. I was greeted by a Princess-themed room, all done up pretty in pink and purple coloring. There was a modified bunk bed on the far left the room, one that looked like a castle with two beds built into it. In the beds, two little girls lay with their heads blown apart.

I exited the room quietly. This second floor was a graveyard, and a sense of being somewhere I didn't belong settled in my gut. I realized that the corpse I had killed downstairs must have been the one to put a bullet in each of his family member's heads, when he had been human. Maybe he had seen the broadcasts of the corpses and wanted to save them from that fate? It made sense, in a twisted way. His wife and children didn't have to go on the run, didn't have to worry about being hungry, didn't have to worry about being eaten to death by mindless, drooling freaks. Instead, he had delievered them to their Maker in an almost peaceful way, sleeping in their beds in the home that they had loved eachother in.

The only thing that I didn't understand was how the father had turned into a corpse. The house was secure and there were no signs of struggle inside, so what had happened? I made my way down the stairs to the first floor, glad to be away from the stench upstairs. Once I reached the first floor, I unlocked the front door and walked down the steps to where I had slain the corpse. Looking at him more closely now, I saw that there was what appeared to be a gunshot wound to his chest. The flesh there had been torn open and blown apart by the force of the bullet. It was a horrible wound and I was surprised I hadn't noticed it earlier.

Confusion flowed through me. If I didn't know better, I would definitely say that his gunshot wound was this man's cause of death. Whether he had died immediately from the wound or had bled out after the fact, I didn't know, but no way would he have been able to survive a wound like that without medical attention. I shined my flashlight on him, cutting apart his shirt with my knife and peeling it off of his rotten flesh. I inspected what was left of his chest and arms and saw no bites. Holding back my disgust, I checked the rest of his body for any signs of trama and found none. No bites, no scratches. Nothing to indicate how or why this man had turned into a corpse.

This shook me to my core, and I ran away from the man who turned into a corpse for no damn reason. I ran back to the house and slammed the door behind me, locking it. I sagged against it for a moment, trying to settle the hammering beat of my heart. Eventually, I pulled myself away and headed for the living room and the couch that resided there. I had found a guest bedroom upstairs but the thought of sleeping just feet away from someone's dead body was too much for me to deal with. Even sleeping downstairs was a little too much, but I had no other option.

I peeled off my gore-covered clothes, tossing them into the far corner of the room. The house was almost too warm, so I didn't bother putting on anything over my underwear before flopping face first onto the designer couch. Like all things that costed too much money, it wasn't very comfortable. Exhaustion flowed through me and sleep claimed me without another thought.

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I awoke to sunlight streaming in the windows, burning my retinas the moment I opened my eyes.

For just a moment, in my sleep-induced, groggy state, I thought I was home. I groaned, throwing my arm up to cover my eyes. "Jesus, ma," I groaned, "close the fucking blinds. It's too early," I complained, before reaching for my comforter to pull over my head.

Only it wasn't there. Neither was my mother's nagging voice, laced with a Russian accent, telling me to stop being such a lazy _súchka_ and get out of bed. Like she was one to talk.

The realization that I wasn't home hit me with the force of a battering ram, and I sat straight up, looking around. The house I was in was even more beautiful in the light of day. It only stood to remind me of all that I had lost; my home, my mother, Roy. My life.

I layed back against the couch, trying to absorb my current situation. I didn't know where to go or what to do or how to go about doing it.

I was more alone than I had ever been, and I was terrified. I'd always been self sufficient, of course. I had to be, but this was different. I might have been independent before but I had never truly been alone. I had had my mother, as absent as she was. I had had Roy, who came into my life and filled the roll of my nonexistant father. I had had school, full of faculty members that had absolutely loved me. I realized that I hadn't even thought of my instructors since this whole thing started, and another tendril of grief and pain filled me.

I stood abruptly, pulling myself away from the couch similarly to the way I pulled away from my depressing thoughts, leaving them both behind me. I walked the short distance from the living room into the kitchen, where the stocked food pantry I had found last night awaited me. I scavanged a box of wheat thins and a bottle of cheese in a can, taking my find to the island counter. After I had my fill, I looked around aimlessly.

My thoughts drifted to the bodies upstairs, and I frowned. I knew that the husband had wanted his family's final resting place to be in their beds, but that just wouldn't fly with me. I didn't have anywhere else to go so for the time being this house was where I would be staying. I refused to live in a house occupied by corpses. Even if they were of the actually-dead variety.

After dressing in shorts and a tank top to try and combat the Georgia heat, I found myself outside. There was a small shed in the back yard that I migrated towards. The door was unlocked and I stepped inside, finding it stocked with a bunch of landscaping equipment. My eyes landed on a shovel and an idea formed in my mind. I grabbed it and headed back towards the house.

I spent the rest of my day digging. When I first started, it didn't seem like it would be that difficult. However, by the time I had finished digging the first hole, the sun was high in the sky and my whole body ached with the effort. My hands were beginning to blister and I could feel sweat dripping down my shoulder blades to the curve of my back.

It didn't matter. I kept going, despite my pain. Or maybe it was because of it? It felt almost therapeutic, in a way, to dig these graves. The way I plunged the shovel into the dirt, pushing it down with my foot to loosen the dry dirt before tossing it to join the rest of the soil was almost cleansing. It kept my mind just as busy as it kept my body, and before I knew it, three more shallow graves had joined the first one and the sun was threatening to dip below the horizon.

I didn't let myself stop once the graves were complete. I forced my tired body back into the house and up the stairs to the little girl's room. The stench was almost too much to handle; I tried to only breathe through my mouth but that was worse. The odor was so strong that I could taste it on the back of my tongue and my stomach threatened to revolt against me. Holding back the urge to gag, I walked over to the bunkbeds, looking down at the girl on the lower bunk sadly.

I pulled the blankets loose from the bed, wrapping the little girl's body as well as I could with them. Despite how crude it seemed, I sealed the sheets shut with a roll of duct tape I had found in the shed before reaching down to pick her up in my arms. I carried her down the stairs and out the door to the shallow grave I had prepared.

I repeated the process with the girl's sister and mother. The mother was too heavy for me to carry and so I had to drag her, cringing guiltily each time I heard what was left of her head _thump_ against the stairs on the way down. Soon, all of the women of the family laid next to eachother in what was to be their final resting spot.

I looked over the yard to the corpse I had killed. The corpse that was once these girl's father and this woman's husband. I knew that he deserved to join them, but by that point my body was literally shaking with weariness. I groaned and gathered all of my determination; I wanted this to be done and over with today. Gritting my teeth against the pain, I forced myself back into the house and up the stairs to the guest room, opening windows to air the house out as I went. I stripped the bed of its sheets, bringing them downstairs to where the father lay in the front yard.

Getting the man's corpse wrapped up in the sheets was the most difficult. Mostly because I hated the thought of touching his rotten flesh, but I did what I had to do. Soon, he was resting with the rest of his family, and I was sprinkling the loose dirt over their graves.

Satisfaction filled me for a moment as I looked down at the freshly covered dirt. I debated on making some type of markers for them, but I as too exhausted to even consider it tonight. I made my way back to the house.

I ventured upstairs, noting that the smell of death was still pungent as ever, despite my opening of the windows. I wondered idly if airing out the house would even work or if it was doomed to forever reek of death and decay. Mentally shrugging, I made my way to the bathroom and tried the faucets. Clear water spurted out and I did a little dance.

I turned on the shower, cranking up the hot water before stripping. Words couldn't express how amazing the water felt as it caressed my battered skin, and I sighed contently. I stood under the warm spray for longer than strictly necessary, scrubbing the evidence of the last few days off of my body. When I stepped out, I felt almost human again. Until I started to walk down the stairs and I became aware of my body screaming obscenities at me, a stabbing pain flowing from my feet all the way up my legs.

I reached the bottom of the stairs after what seemed like hours, limping my way into the living room. I was starving but the idea of walking all the way to the kitchen was too much for me to handle. I plopped down on the couch, groaning when the motion jarred my shoulder painfully.

The hard labor had served its purpose of exhausting me completely, and I drifted to sleep.

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The next days were a blurr. Time had ceased to hold any importance in my life. I spent most of them laying on the couch, alternating between sleeping and staring at the ceiling, watching the rays of sunlight make their journey across the walls. I felt lifeless and empty, unsure of what my next move should be. I knew I couldn't just lay around this house feeling sorry for myself for forever. I needed to get up, get dressed and do something productive.

With that in mind, I managed to pull myself off of the couch and put clothes on. My body was stiff and still ached uncomfortably but it was manageable. I ventured outside for the first time since I buried the family, and my eyes fell to Roy's truck. I remembered what he had told me in Douglasville, about leaving a map for me in the dash.

Hobbling over to the passenger's side, I threw open the door and opened the glovebox from my positioning on the ground. It was completely empty other than the aforementioned map and a small envelope. I pulled both out and gasped when I saw that my name was written on the top of the envelope in Roy's familiar, untidy scrawl.

That was all it took for emotion and grief to fill me, and I stared at the envelope with watering eyes. My aching legs gave out beneath me and I fell to the gravel below. The uneven rocks stabbed at my exposed skin painfully, but I barely noticed as I ripped the envelope open. I had to blink several times to clear my vision before I was able to read it.

_Avery,_

_I'm writing this in case shit goes down when we go look for Amanda. If you're reading this, I'm dead, and you're alone. I hate to even think of it, but I know you'll be alright. You're tough. A survivor. You've always been like that, ever since I first met you. Taking care of your mom, always scraping by._

_I don't know why I'm bothering to write this. I know we're gonna be alright. You, me and Amanda are gonna be just fine up at the cabin. Maybe its cuz the world's gone to shit, or maybe I'm just becoming an old, sentimental bastard. I just felt like I needed to leave this, just in case._

_I wanted to let you know that I've loved you like you were my own daughter, ever since the first time I saw you. Remember that? You were all blonde hair, elbows and knees, coming at me with a broken spatula threatening to scratch my eyes out if I ever fucked with your mom. Even when me and your mom broke up, I worried about you, and I was glad the day you came in and asked for a job._

_I'm sorry I'm not gonna be able to be there to watch your back. I'm sorry you have to live in this fucked up world by yourself, but like I said, I know you'll be alright. You'll survive. You'll live. Don't give up, pipsqueak._

_-Roy_

I read the words three times before bringing the paper to my chest, holding it close as I sobbed. For the first time, I really felt the full weight of Roy's death. I hadn't let myself think of it before, not really. I had noticed his absence in an abstract way but I hadn't been allowing myself to realize the cold, hard truth of the matter.

Roy was gone. Roy was dead. He had died in some dirty, busted down alleyway after some mindless corpse decided he would make a good snack. The events of that day came back to the forefront of my mind, my own personal motion picture behind my eyelids.

I had been so _cocky_, so sure of myself. I had been so annoyed with Roy in the moments just before he was bitten. I told him he was going to get us both killed, but he hadn't. _I_ was the one who had gotten _him_ killed. What had I been thinking to even consider leaving him? He could barely breathe! If I had just stayed where I was instead of trying to go on ahead, I would have seen that corpse in time. I would have seen it and been able to kill it before it got too close.

But I hadn't, and now Roy was dead. Gone. Never coming back. The man that helped me countless times in the few years I knew him, the man that was like the father I never had, was gone because of me and my arrogance.

_You won't get far thinking you're invincible_, Roy had warned me. I'd learned that lesson the hard way.

I stared up at the sky through my blurry eyes, my sobs asking the question that my mouth couldn't form. _Why? Why did Roy have to die?_ That wasn't how it was supposed to work. It was the tragic hero that was supposed to pay the price of their own hubris. I should have been the one to pay with my life. It should have been me blowing my brains out in that alley, not the other way around.

I sat on the gravel for a long time, until my tears finally dried up. I managed to stand, groaning as I hobbled back to the house. The first thing I did when I got inside was head to where I had hung my jacket, digging in the pockets until I found the golden locket. It had been Roy's final gift to me, and I decided that I would wear it always.

Then I pulled the map out, sitting at the kitchen table to try to judge where I was. Roy was right. I was a survivor, and I needed to start acting like one. My forehead creased as I looked at the detailed map, lined with different highways and other lines that I didn't know what to make of. I stared at it for a while, noting wryly that it was much easier to navigate back when I had access to the internet.

After about twenty minutes of this, I managed to find what I thought was my current location. I knew Roy had told me not to, but I started to try to figure out how I could get to Atlanta and stay off the major highways. I knew if Roy were here he'd berate me for even considering it, but I didn't know what else to do. I was going crazy, sitting in this house by myself. I needed to find other people, if only to assure myself that there were some left.

I managed to find a way, but I'd have to connect onto at least one major highway before I made it into the city. I decided that I would keep Roy's truck afterall. It was big and sturdy enough that I would at least be able to go off road if I needed it to to get inside the city. I'd deal with all the drawbacks when the time came.

The rest of the day consisted of me scavenging through the house, trying to find anything of value to take with me when I left. I was happy to see the medicine cabinet was fully stocked: peroxide, bandaids, gauze, antibiotic cream. I took everything that had even the slightest medicinal value and packed it away. I did the same thing with the nonperishables. In the shed outside, I had found several red canisters, filled to the brim with gasoline.

I went upstairs and looked through the dressers up there, seeing if there was anything my size. The wife of the house had been just about my size, if not a little bigger, and I had a field day with her clothes. Her style had been a little too preppy for my taste, but beggars couldn't be choosers.

That night, I had one last shower and ate a big meal before I layed down to go to bed. It was early, the sun only just beginning to dip below the ground, but I planned to be up early tomorrow. First thing in the morning, I'd be up and ready to head out on the open road.

Atlanta, here I come.

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><p><strong>AN: I know, I know. After the action in the last chapter, this one is down right boring, huh? Oh well. It was very important as far as character development for Avery, and she needed to grieve. Fear not, the badassery and slaying of zombies will return next chapter! For now, leave me a review and let me know what you think. Did Roy's letter give you some hardcore feels? Cuz I'm feeling downright feels-y over here. *sniffsniff***

**Next chapter is already written, so I'll see you all next week! xoxox**


	5. Little Birdie

**Author's Note:**

**Hello everyone! Once again, I want to thank everyone who's reading this story. Every notification I get saying that someone has favorited or put this story on their alerts just tickles me pink. An extra special thank you to my reviewers: _masseffectrulz_, '_H._', _YoshidaYukio_, _Defender93_, _gabby871 and Mrs. Sorbo._ If it weren't for you lovely guys and gals, this story wouldn't be written.**

**I hope everyone enjoys this chapter. I know I'm a little early in posting this but I couldn't wait anymore! Haha. I'm kind of nervous about it because it definitely calls for some suspension of disbelief. There are some things that occur in this chapter that have no rational explanation, and I know that's a difficult pill to swallow for some. That being said, let's be real here, people, you're reading a fanfiction about a world taken over by zombies. Haha.**

**As always, I look forward to your feedback. Please leave a review and let me know what you think!**

**Standard Disclaimer: I do not own _The Walking Dead_. I bow to the copyright of AMC and Robert Kirkman. The only thing I own are my OC characters and their likeness.  
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**Special Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed in this work of fiction do not reflect those of the author. This story is rated M and is intended for mature audiences only.**

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I pulled to a stop in front of a house in a residential neighborhood. The area crawled with corpses, and I cut the engine immediately. The sound of the truck had alerted them to my presence, and I quickly grabbed the bag I had in the passenger's seat and hopped out of the cab before they could reach it. I ran up to one of the houses.

It was bad out here. I had been driving since the sun came up, only stopping now because the sun was beginning its descent in the sky. I was about twenty minutes outside of Atlanta, and the amount of corpses I was seeing was astronomical. They lined the streets, stumbling about with their stiff limbs aimlessly.

It made me really nervous, especially considering that the broadcast signal that had been playing on the radio when Roy and I had gone to save his sister was now silent. I tried to remember how long had passed since I last heard it, but my grief rattled mind hadn't been keeping track of the time. I didn't know how many days I had lost in that house-was it a week? Two? Either way, the broadcast was gone.

I slipped inside one of the houses that its door hanging open. I closed it behind me, locking it. I heard the groaning and shuffling footsteps of a corpse somewhere in the house and I sighed. I pulled the hatchet free of my belt, gripping it tightly.

I made my way through the house, finding two corpses throughout it. I dispatched them quickly, before they even had time to register the fact I was there. I hauled their bodies into a room, shutting the door to it in disgust.

I headed for the bathroom to see if the pipes worked, cursing in frustration when nothing came out. So much for a shower. That nice house had spoiled me a little bit, I suppose. It was odd, who would have thought that I'd end up having better living conditions at the end of the world than I had had my whole life? I smirked a little at the thought.

I made my way into the other room, plopping down onto the bed that it provided. I cleaned off my hatchet of the blood and brain matter with a spare shirt I found before laying back and looking at the ceiling.

Worry settled in my gut and I chewed on my chapped bottom lip. I had come in on highway 85, and the sight that had greeted me had not been a pleasant one. The highway going into the city had been completely clear, but the highway going out of the city had been clogged with abandoned cars. I had turned around and headed back here, to wait for the morning.

Where was the blockade? Where was the military? How could they possibly have a safe zone in the city if, even here, there wasn't a human in sight?

Suddenly, a sound caught my attention. I sat straight up on the bed, looking around. If I didn't know better, I would say it was a gunshot. I threw myself out of bed and ran to the front door, throwing it open.

There it was again! It was faint, but I definitely heard it. The corpses in the area had too, so I knew I wasn't just going crazy. They all looked up, bemused looks on their faces as they began to shuffle towards the sound. They moved with purpose now, all of them heading towards it. The street cleared quickly.

I heard the shots echo out a few more times, before everything fell silent. I didn't care. The fact that I had heard those gunshots meant one thing; there were people out there. I wasn't the only one left. I had to fight the urge to hop back in the truck and follow the sound. I knew that if I had heard it, every corpse miles around had heard it too. I couldn't just drive into a horde and expect to be okay, even with my invisibility. I had to be smart.

I forced myself back into the house, but I was filled with nervous energy. My original plan had been to go to sleep early, but that had quickly gone out the window. Instead, I ripped apart the house to try and find anything I could use. It had been pretty picked apart already, but I managed to find a can of fruit cocktail that I opened hastily with my knife. I had plenty of provisions but I wanted to save them as long as I could.

I went into the garage and found that there was a car stored there. My heart lifted at the sight, and I returned to the main house to get the tube that I had been using to siphon fuel. I didn't have any type of pump so I had to stick one end in and suck the fuel out manually. I felt like I ended up spitting out more fuel than I managed to get in the canister, but it passed the time. By the time that I was done, the sun was begining to set.

I walked back inside the house, looking around once more before giving up. I felt like pacing, but I forced myself to lay down. For some reason, I felt as though I'd need my rest for tomorrow. It didn't help much, as my mind wouldn't stop fixating on the gunshots I had heard. What if I had missed my chance at finding the only other humans left because I was afraid to be caught in the city after dark?

There wasn't much I could do about it now, though. I just had to have faith that where there was one, there was more. I'd find them tomorrow. I had to.

My anxiety reached an all time high, and I did something that normally I would never condone. I reached into my purse, pulling out one of my mom's old prescription bottle of pain pills. I popped one into my mouth and dry swallowed, before leaning back onto the bed as I waited for the pill to kick in.

I closed my eyes, letting the tension leave my body. Eventually, I felt myself drifting to sleep, slowly sinking into dreamland.

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When I woke up, it was still dark outside. I sat straight up in the bed, grabbing my right wrist with my hand and gasping.

I had had a dream, a really terrible one that I couldn't remember now. It tugged at the edge of my consciousness and the more I tried to remember, the less I could. All I knew was that my wrist stung horribly. I pulled my flashlight out of my bag, turning the light on and inspecting it. Bright red scratches stood out on the skin there, and I'd even managed to draw a little bit of blood on one of them.

Shaken, I wiped it off on the blankets. I'd never scratched myself in my sleep before. Must've been one fucked up dream.

I pulled myself out of bed and set about getting ready for the day. The sun was begining to rise as I made my way out of the door towards Roy's truck. I scanned around, checking my surroundings. It looked like some of the corpses had returned from yesterday, but not nearly as many. I wondered if the ones that had returned had lived in this neighborhood before they had been infected. Did they remember their lives from before? Were they prisoners in their own bodies, forced to commit heinous acts of violence because of the disease? I shivered at the thought.

I hopped inside the cab, sticking the key into the ignition and starting it. The roar of the engine made several of the corpses turn their heads to look at me, but by the time they made to move I had already shifted the gears and gunned the gas. A few tried to follow but I easily left them behind.

I returned the way I had come from, heading into the city. I wanted to stay in the truck as long as I could, but as I approached the city limits I quickly realized that would be impossible. Cars were abandoned in the streets, some toppled over and others burned to a crisp. I saw about a dozen corpses around and groaned, stopping the truck and cutting the engine as fast as I could. From the looks of it, none of them had noticed me so far. I exited the truck, closing the door quietly behind me.

I pulled my bag of provisions out of the bed of the truck, securing the bag onto my back. Then I started walking.

The destruction I saw was unbelievable. I thought that it had been bad in Douglasville, but that had been nothing compared to this. Scorch marks were everywhere: the street, the buildings, the cars. Cars were overturned on the street and people's personal items were scattered across the road. Buildings burned to a crisp, parts of their infastructure thrown about everywhere. Scorched pieces of something that once resembled human flesh littered the ground.

If I didn't know better, I'd say that bombs had been dropped here. Napalm, maybe? It made no sense. If there was a refugee camp here, why was the town so destroyed? Why hadn't I seen a single soul?

I walked the city for hours. I came across countless groups of corpses wandering about but no people. I ventured to a street that had an abandoned tank sitting in the middle of it, corpses wandering about the area aimlessly. I looked around and saw that there was a gigantic blood stain on the ground next to the tank, mixed with bits of bone fragments. I kneeled down and ran my fingers across the stain before pulling my hand away to inspect it. The blood was still slightly wet, and I wiped my hand on the pavement to try and get it off my skin.

Whatever had been eaten here had been so recently. I went to stand, when something else caught my eye. It was a bag on the ground. I walked over to it and picked it up. On the outside there was a decal that read 'Sheriff'. I opened it and gasped. Inside were six shotguns, two high action rifles and over a dozen handguns, complete with tons of ammo. I tore my gaze from the bag and surveyed my surroundings. I looked up at the buildings to see if I could detect anyone moving around, anyone that could have dropped this bag in the middle of the street. I saw no one.

If there were people about, they definitely wouldn't leave a bag like this out in the open for anyone to take. These guns were worth more than gold.

I looked back at the bloodstain on the ground and felt my eyes begin to water. I was too late. Whoever had been here was gone now. I was alone, and this city belonged to the dead. I shouldn't be here.

My knees felt weak all of a sudden and I fell to them. I couldn't look away from the bloodstain on the ground, even as my vision began to blur. Atlanta had been my last hope, my only option. What was I supposed to do now? Go back to the truck and drive till I ran out of gas? Live in some house that didn't belong to me, scavenging supplies out of dead people's homes?

I sat down, bringing my knees to my chest as I rocked myself. No tears fell but what I felt was worse. Empty. Alone. Desolate. Hopeless. _Invisible_.

For the first time since I had found out about the corpse's indifference towards me, I wished I was like everyone else. I wished the corpses would suddenly detect me and converge. What was the point of surviving if I didn't have anything to survive for?

I reached for my belt, pulling Opal out of her holster. My eyes flashed over the iridescent inset, smiling as I remembered my mother's reaction when Roy gave it to me. She had been so _angry_, so convinced that wasn't old enough for a gun and that I would hurt myself with it. I bet she would roll over in her grave if she knew what I was thinking about doing now.

Only she didn't have a grave to roll over in. No, my mom was just a mindless, drooling, man-eating freak now. Now that I thought of it that way, I guess not much had changed.

I clicked off the safety with shaky fingers, trying to harden myself to the idea of what I was going to do. I needed to make sure that I didn't wuss out at the last second. It wouldn't do to miss the brain; after what I saw with the man at the farmhouse, I wasn't taking any chances. I held the gun up to my temple, ignoring my shaking hand as I willed myself to pull the trigger. I_t won't hurt_, I told myself. _It'll just be one second. One second and it will be all over._

"The fuck you think you're doing, pipsqueak?"

My eyes snapped up at the sound of the voice and my mouth fell open at what I saw. It was Roy, standing before me whole and healthy, leaning against the tank. He was frowning, a disappointed look gracing his features.

"Put the gun down, Avery," he told me. "There's no need for that."

I simply stared, blinking rapidly to try and shake off whatever was causing this. I knew I couldn't be dreaming. I felt the hot, Georgia sun on my skin and I could see the shimmer of the heat rising off the pavement. I felt the hard concrete beneath me, and I could smell the rotting flesh of the corpses. I could hear their groans of hunger.

"This isn't real," I whispered to myself, clenching the handle of the gun tighter in my hand and squeezing my eyes shut. "You're not real. You're dead. I watched you die. This is all in my head," I whispered the words like a mantra.

"Of course it's in your head, Avery," the fake-Roy said, laughing. The sound of his laugh made me open my eyes and look at him. I never thought I'd hear that sound again. The hallucination, or whatever it was, pushed itself off the side of the tank and kneeled down on it's haunches before me. "But what's to say it's not real?"

I shook my head. This was impossible. I must have sunstroke or something. The sun must have cooked my brain. "You're dead. I watched you blow your brains out, Roy," I told the fake-Roy adamantly. "Seems to me like you had a pretty good idea. Now, if you don't mind," I said, closing my eyes again and willing myself to push the trigger.

"Thought I told you to stay out of Atlanta," the fake-Roy scolded me. It was a tone that I had heard many times in the years I had known him. "How are you just gonna ignore a dying man's final request? Guess I shouldn't be surprised. You never did listen to me much."

"Fuck you! I don't know what you are, but you're not Roy. Just leave me alone," I begged him. "Just go away."

"I'm not leaving you, pipsqueak. I'm gonna stay with you. Until the end."

My eyes snapped open again when I heard the fake-Roy echo the words I had told him after he had been bitten. Tears blurred my vision, and I felt my hand with the gun fall to my side. All the desire to end my life left my body in an instant.

"I don't know what to do, Roy. There's nothing left," I told him. "There's no where to go. I feel so alone," I felt tears spill over my waterline and I wiped them away in frustration.

The fake-Roy stared at me for a few moments, just like he used to when he was alive and contemplating something serious. "You want to live? Find people? Or do you want to die?" he finally asked.

"I can't be by myself anymore, Roy," I told him. "I can't do it. I'm losing my mind. I can't spend the rest of my life wandering the country side doing nothing but existing. I just can't."

"That didn't answer my question, pipsqueak," Roy chided. "Do you want to live? Or do you want to die? Simple question."

"Of course I don't _want_ to _die_. I just can't live like _this_ anymore," I snapped, my voice rising. Several corpse's heads turned my way. I watched them closely as they looked around wildly, sniffing the air hungrily before eventually losing interest. I looked back to where Roy had been and my heart plummeted.

He was gone. Disappointment washed over of me like a bucket of ice dumped over my head, and I found myself laughing at my stupidity. Of course he was gone; he had never been there in the first place. I'd known it had been some weird hallucination from the beginning.

"What are you waiting for, pipsqueak?" I heard a voice call from down the street. My head snapped towards the direction of the sound and for the second time today my mouth fell open in shock. It was Roy again, but this time he was further down the road. He stood next to a group of corpses, waving me down and yelling at the top of his voice. The corpses didn't react even the slightest to him.

Absolutely positive that I was losing my fucking marbles, I gathered myself to my feet. I grabbed my bag of provisions and the bag of guns and took off down the road in his direction. As soon as I started to get close, he disappeared. I faltered in my steps, confusion filtering through me.

"This way. Keep up, you're slow as snails," his voice reached my ears again, this time from my right side. I turned to look and he was standing near the entrance to a store. The doors had once supported glass but it had been broken through, bits of sparkling shards littering the ground.

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes at the fake-Roy. For being a hallucination created by my mind, he sure was just as annoying as the real thing. It was amazing, really. I made my way through the doors carefully, making sure to avoid the remaining shards still imbedded in the door.

My eyes scanned the building, taking everything in. It was a large department store and we were currently in what looked like the women's section. Mannequins lined the walls, each dressed in different outfits. Of course, corpses filled the space, shuffling around aimlessly.

"Are you trying to say something about my choice of clothing, Roy?" I asked, my eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

Fake-Roy laughed again, shaking his head, "Well, I wasn't, but now that you mention it, would it kill you to put on a pair of pants?" I glared at him and he laughed again. The sound of it pierced my chest and I felt my glare soften. Even though I knew it wasn't real, it felt so good to see him again. To see him the way he had been before everything went to shit. "Go that way," he told me, interrupting my thoughts. He pointed to the back of the store and I listened to him, heading that direction.

He disappeared again as I walked. I didn't worry too much, knowing that he would be back. My crazy brain wouldn't give up on me now, I knew.

I passed the men's clothing section, keeping towards the way Roy had instructed. I was starting to falter in my steps as I reached the outdoor section, unsure of where to go when I saw him again. I passed an aisle that hosted an assortment of tools, and he whistled to get my attention.

"Gonna need these," he told me, pointing to one of the tools on the shelf.

I walked to him, looking to see what he was pointing at. "The fuck do I need bolt cutters for?" I asked incredulously. I looked back to him and he smiled.

"Seems like a good thing to have. C'mon, we've got to get you to the roof."

"The roof?" I repeated. "Why do I need to go to the roof, exactly?" I asked. This hallucination just kept getting weirder and weirder. Shouldn't it be wearing off by now? I wasn't moments away from blowing my brains out anymore. There was no reason for my mind to keep this up.

"You're not gonna believe me if I tell you," he replied. "Just head up those stairs and don't stop till you get to the top."

I sighed, grabbing the bolt cutters and heading towards the stairs. What else did I have to do?

I pulled open the door to the stairwell, stepping inside. A few stray corpses were stumbling around in the small space, and I took them out as I went. Roy had disappeared again but I continued on anyway. I had come this far, after all.

After climbing about fifteen flights of stairs and killing just as many corpses, I finally reached the last flight. I looked up to see about ten corpses standing there, all pushing and shoving to try and get through the door at the top of the stairs. I couldn't see what was stopping them from getting through the door, but I saw that it only opened a small crack.

"Take these geeks out," Roy said, startling me. He was beside me, standing close enough that I could reach out and touch him if I wanted to. Only he wasn't real, so I didn't bother. "What you're looking for is on the other side of that door. Love you, pipsqueak. Catch you on the other side," he said, and then he was gone. I had a feeling I wouldn't be seeing him again.

I looked back to the snarling corpses, glad to see they were still ignoring me completely. They were all distracted, trying to get through the door to whatever was on the other side. I pulled my hunting knife out, taking each of them out with and upwards stab to the brain stem. The others didn't even look back as their undead companions fell, too focused on whatever had gotten them riled up.

Suddenly, a voice reached my ears. Not the snarling and moaning of corpses, not the fake-voice of Roy. A real human voice.

"_No, Jesus. Jesus. No, no, no, no, no, no_," the voice wailed. It was desperate and pleading, and it pierced through my soul. "_Please. I didn't behave, I know. I know I'm being punished. I know. I... Oh, I deserve it. I deserve it. I've been bad. Help me now. Show me the way. Go on, tell me what to do. Tell me. Tell me, God!_"

I took out the remaining corpses as quickly as I could, being careful not to trip over the bodies of the ones I'd already slain. Finally, I was alone in the stairwell. Disregarding the gore that covered my body from slaying so many of them in such a confined space, I approached the door to see what was blocking it.

I almost fell down the stairs in shock. Keeping the door secure was a thick metal chain with a heavy duty padlock keeping it in place. I looked down at the bolt cutters I had placed in my belt, pulling them free. There was only one way to get through this door and I held it in my hands.

Only one question permeated in my mind: _how_? How had my hallucination known that I would need these? How did it know there was someone up here? I definitely wouldn't have been able to hear this man's voice from where I had been on the ground.

I shivered, looking over my shoulder to see if there was anyone in the stairwell with me. I was still alone. I found myself shaking, despite the humid heat that filled the area. I looked back to the door, grasping the bolt cutters in my hand tightly. I knew what I had to do.

I lined up the blades around the thick neck of the padlock, squeezing the two handles together with all of my might. The blade cut through the metal like butter, the chain falling to the ground. I threw open the door before stepping outside.

The sunlight filled my vision, temporarily blinding me. I squinted my eyes against it, before I turned around and put my hatchet through the handle to block it.

When I was done, I turned back around. When I did, my eyes were greeted by the sight of a man. I could barely see his head, poking over one of the pipes on the roof. He was staring back at me, mouth open in shock.

I didn't say anything as I walked to him, and he made no motion to speak either, simply looking at me. I crossed over a bridge that connected the two sides of the building, hopping down on the other side. I got my first good look at him.

His skin was dry and caked with dirt. It was red, like he had been sunburned. He wore a pair of blue jeans and a leather vest over a stained, filthy t-shirt. His hair was shaved short, almost bald. I couldn't help but notice he looked a lot like Roy.

After observing his face for a moment, my eyes fell to his right arm and I gasped. Securing his wrist to a piece of metal was a pair of handcuffs. The skin where the handcuff rested on his wrist was torn and bleeding.

"Holy fuck," I exclaimed. I looked back to my wrist that I had scratched at in my sleep and my dream came back to me in an instant.

It had been me up here on this roof in my dream. I had been the one with the handcuff on my wrist, screaming and pulling at it as I tried to free myself, feeling as if I were a trapped, wild animal. I rushed to the man's side in an instant, taking my bolt cutters and cutting through the rings of metal that attached the cuffs together. The man's wrist fell to the ground.

Only after I was already done did I realize that it might have been a mistake to free the man so soon. He was at least twice my size and could easily overpower me if he had the inclination to do so. I looked up from where my gaze had rested on his wrist and came face to face with the man. His blue eyes were wide, pupils dilated despite the intense rays of the sun beating down on us. He had the most incredulous look an his face, as if he wasn't sure if I were real.

Finally, I broke the silence. "What's your name?" I whispered, drawing back and away from him. I pulled Opal out of my holster, clicking off the safety. I pointed it at him, watching him carefully for any sudden movements. He didn't answer me, instead continuing to look at me as if I might disappear.

"I asked you a question," I growled, trying to appear tough despite the pity that stirred in my chest for the man. "What. Is. Your. Name," I repeated through gritted teeth.

"My name..." he started, his voice raspy and dry. He swallowed compulsively, as though trying to gather enough saliva to speak. "My name's Merle Dixon," he managed, his voice barely a whisper.

I found myself lowering my gun. I looked at him critically, before clicking the safety back on and holstering Opal. I shrugged my backpack with provisions off of my frame, opening and pulling out a bottle of water. I untwisted the cap before handing it out for him to take. He stared at it as if he wasn't sure it was real.

"Take it," I encouraged. Still, he continued to just stare. I sighed, bringing the bottle to my lips and taking a small drink. "See? It's just water," I said, holding it back out for him to take.

He grabbed the bottle out of my hand hesitantly, before bringing it up to his lips. As soon as the water touched his dry, chapped lips he groaned appreciatively, before begining to guzzle it down. I observed him closely, memorizing every detail of his face. He was the first human being I'd seen in weeks, and my eyes almost couldn't believe it. I felt like if I didn't keep staring at him, he would disappear, just like Roy had.

Once he had finished the bottle of water, he tossed the cheap plastic to the side. He looked at me looking at him, and silence filled the air. I didn't know what to say, and I don't think he knew what to say either.

"Are you real? How'd you find me, Blondie?" he finally asked, his speech a lot less raspy now. His voice was laced with a hillbilly twang of an accent. It hurt my chest. Was it a cruel twist of fate that the one man I'd found in this graveyard of a city looked and sounded so much like Roy?

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," I managed to choke out. For some annoying reason, my eyes started to water. I blinked rapidly to clear them. "Let's just say a little birdie told me and leave it at that."

"A little birdie, eh?" he repeated, looking at me oddly. He held out his arm that still had the cuff attached to it, reaching for my face. I cringed away, my hand flying for Opal. "Now, now, none of that," he said hastily. "I just need to make sure–" for some reason, I paused with my hand on the handle of my gun. He continued reaching until his fingertips brushed my cheek gently, before pulling away quickly, as if he had been burned. "–that yer real," he finished.

A sound reached my ears, and I looked up to see that there was a corpse against the door, trying desperately to get through it. The door surged against my hatchet precariously and I was up in an instant, running to the door and pulling my hunting knife out of my belt. When I reached the door, I shoved my body against it to trap the thing's head in the frame, before bringing my knife down into its forehead. Life left its body in an instant, and it slumped down the inside of the door frame. I kicked at it through the small space, sending its body back into the stairwell and shutting the door once more.

When I turned around, I saw that Merle was looking at me from his spot on the ground, over the pipeline. I walked back to him.

"You hungry?" I asked. He nodded mutely and I dug into my bag once more, pulling out a row of crackers and another bottle of water, handing it to him. He took them with surprisingly gentle fingers. He tore into the packaging like an animal though, shoving the crackers into his mouth with abandon. I watched him studiously, still worried he might disappear.

"So whose cherrios did you piss in?" I asked after a few moments. He looked at me in shock for a moment before a throaty laugh left his lips.

"Whatchu mean? I'd never waste cheerios like that," he quipped before taking a long swig from the bottle of water.

"You must've done something," I said, without humor. "I know I'd have to have a pretty good reason before I chained some guy to a roof with no supplies and left him there. I wouldn't even do that to an animal."

He looked at me for a moment, as if considering whether or not to tell me the truth. "I was with a group," he explained, before launching into his story. "I admit that I might've got out of hand a lil. This nigger was trying to tell me what to do and I told him how it was after I kicked his ass," I resisted the urge to roll my eyes at his use of derogatory language. Yep, this guy was like Roy incarnate. "Then the next thing I know, this Officer Friendly schmuck comes up behind me and takes me by surprise. Never even seen the guy before! They picked him out off the street or some shit," he explained. I couldn't believe it. This guy was part of a group? An entire group of people?! I couldn't believe my ears. He went on to tell me about how this 'Officer Friendly' fellow had given the handcuff key to the 'nigger' whose ass Merle had kicked. They had all taken off and left him, and the man with the key had dropped it down the drain. He'd been here ever since.

"How long ago was that?" I asked.

Merle shrugged, "Dunno, wasn't in my right head for a minute. Maybe a day or so now? Fuck if I know."

I thought back to yesterday when I had heard the gunshots. That had probably been when his group had left him. I stared at him for a long minute, sizing him up.

"So how's this gonna work?" I asked him, my voice hard. "If I help you get out of here, should I be expecting a knife in my back the second I turn around?" I asked, pulling Opal of out her holster in a flash and bringing it up to his temple. My face was close to his, and my eyes met his own. I saw my reflection staring back at me through his clear, blue eyes and I almost faltered. My face was contorted and hard, my mouth set in a snarl. I was almost afraid of myself. "You look like a man whose been on the wrong side of the law more than once," I observed, clicking off my safety and loading the chamber. "What's your poison? Drugs? Gangs? Burglary?" I asked, watching his face for any type of reaction. "Or maybe you're a murderer? A rapist?" I asked. His eyes widened at the last word, and I took it as a sign. "That's it, isn't it? A rapist? You like to rape helpless girls? Well I'll tell you right now, I'm anything but helpless. I'll put a bullet in your brain before you even have a chance to _think_ it," I threatened.

"No, no, no!" He protested adamantly, but to his credit he didn't move a muscle. "Ya got the wrong idea! I ain't _never_ touched a woman that didn't want it. Never! Never killed a man, neither," he told me. I watched his face as he spoke and found myself believing him. "Yer right to think that I'm some piece of shit punk, cuz I am. I know I am. I've done some pretty shitty things but nothing like that. I swear to God I won't put a hand on ya," he promised.

I nodded, pulling Opal away from his temple and holstering her for what I hoped was the last time. I stepped back from Merle, sitting down against the wall where it offered some form of shade. "The city's crawling with corpses," I informed him. "They're everywhere. Downstairs in the store, out on the street. I have a truck parked just out of town that we can use, but I have no idea how to get you there without you getting bit."

"How'd ya get here if there's so many of 'em?" he asked.

I was surprised at his question. I had forgotten for a moment that this man had no idea about me, had no clue that the corpses were indifferent towards me. I debated with myself for a moment. If I didn't tell him and we attempted to leave the city, he might have some weird macho urge to try and protect me. Then he might end up dead, and I'd be alone again. I couldn't take that chance.

"If I tell you, you have to promise to keep your mouth shut. You can't tell a single fucking soul, you got it? This goes with you to your grave," I warned him.

His eyebrows furrowed together and he looked at me oddly, as if questioning my sanity. "Okay..." he agreed after I continued to stare at him.

I took a deep breath before answering in a sigh. "The corpses aren't interested in me. I don't know how or why, all I know is that none of them have ever tried to attack me. I dunno, I guess I don't smell like food to them or something," I explained with a shrug. I watched him closely.

At first he looked at me with a grin, as if he knew that I were pulling his leg. Then slowly, after noticing that my face didn't give away any sign of deceit, his mouth fell open in shock. "Are ya fucking serious? The Walkers don't go for ya?"

"Serious as a heart attack," I told him.

"Well, fuck me sideways," he exclaimed. I was surpised that he believed me so quickly, but I suppose it made sense. I had gotten to this roof, after all, killing corpses without any difficulty in my quest to get here. "Yer one lucky lady, Blondie," he told me.

I rolled my eyes, "Yeah, I hit the genetic lottery alright," I quipped sarcastically. Then an idea formed in my mind, clicking on like a lightbulb. I looked at Merle, eyes wide in excitement. "That's it! I know how to get you past them," I exclaimed, surging to my feet.

"What? Whatchu talking about?" Merle asked me, slowly pulling himself to his feet as well. I walked towards the blocked door, him following close behind me.

"Don't you see? The corpses leave me alone because I don't smell like food to them," I said emphatically. I felt as though that explained everything, but Merle continued to look at me with a confused, dumbstruck look on his face. I held back a sigh.

"Listen. Corpses hunt mainly by their sense of smell and their hearing," I explained. "They can still sorta see, but whatever the disease is that caused this reduces their vision. They can see general shapes and light, but not very well. That's why they bump into each other so much," I told him. He still continued to look at me as if I had grown three heads. This time, I did sigh. "So they don't sense me because I don't smell like food and I'm generally pretty quiet when I'm around them. That's what we have to do to you. We have to make it so you no longer smell like food," I explained.

"How we gonna do that?" he asked uncertaintly, confusion clear in his voice.

I felt myself begin to grin, finding the situation almost funny. I pulled my hatchet free of the door, opening it to expose the stairwell and the corpses I had disposed of inside. I leaned down, grabbing both arms of one of the bodies, dragging it out of the stairwell and onto the open air of the roof.

"You're gonna stay here. Guard the door, keep it closed till I come back," I informed him. He looked almost panicked at the thought of me leaving. "I'll be right back," I assured him quickly. "I just need to run down and get you a few things. Like I said, guard the door and keep it closed. If any corpses head up here, just leave them be. I'll take them out on my way back. Got it?" I asked, looking at him closely. He nodded. "I mean it, Merle. Don't fuck around with me. You stay here and guard the door. Promise me," I demanded. The thought of him getting bit before I got back was almost enough to give me a panic attack, but I kept my voice stern.

"Yeah, yeah, I promise. Just don't take all day," he said gruffly. I nodded, handing him my hatchet before stepping into the stairwell. I made sure to keep my shoes out of the gore as best as I could. I was halfway down the first flight of stairs when I heard Merle call out to me.

"Hey, Blondie! Ya got a name?" he asked.

I looked back over my shoulder at him, annoyed that the door was still open. "It's Avery. Now close the fucking door, you moron," I snapped. I heard him laugh before I watched him shut the door. His face reappeared in the small window the door offered. He gave me a little grin and a thumbs up sign.

I found myself smirking despite myself, rolling my eyes before I turned around and headed down the stairs. I hurried down them, taking out the few stray corpses that had wandered into the stairwell after my first sweep.

I reached the bottom of the stairs and entered the store again. I closed the door to the stairwell quietly behind me, not wanting to draw any of the corpses in this direction. I made my way to the men's clothing section, taking what I needed as I went. A long trench coat, a couple of pairs of gloves. I began to walk back when I spotted the outdoor section once more. Another idea formed in my mind and I quickly scoured the shelves for some safety glasses. I found them and pocketed them in my bag, as well as the other items.

I made my way back up the stairs. I reached the top flight and saw a couple of corpses had managed to get back up there, tripping over the bodies of the ones I had previously slayed. I took them out easily before knocking lightly on the inside of the door. "Merle, its me. Open the door," I called as quietly as I could. His face reappeared in the window, brightening at the sight of me. He opened the door and I stepped through it before he shut it once more.

I pulled out the items from the bag, handing them to Merle. He took them, looking at me questioningly.

"Put them on," I urged, sliding the safety glasses onto my face. He did as I asked, shrugging on the trench coat and gloves, following my lead and putting on the glasses as well. I pointed at my hatchet in his hands and then motioned to the corpse on the ground. "Get to hacking," I instructed.

Understanding finally graced his features. He nodded once before bringing the hatchet above his head and swinging it down straight onto the stomach of the corpse. It split open easily, the rotton flesh bursting open at the force of the blow. The rotten smell of decay reached my nose and I gagged.

After hacking away at the body for several minutes, I instructed him to stop before sliding on my gloves. I kneeled down and brought my hand to the corpse's exposed insides. I cupped the rotten blood and bits of organ in my hand for a moment, willing my stomach to cooperate with me before I brought my hands to Merle's chest. I rubbed the guts into the suede material of the coat, reaching down for more once I'd ran out.

Soon, his body was compeltely covered with the corpse's rotton insides. I could smell the death and decay on him so strongly that it made my eyes water, and I stepped back to remove my gloves. "God, you smell fucking rank," I informed him, a small laugh escaping my mouth.

Merle laughed too. "Thought that was the plan," he said.

"It sure was. Now listen, " I said, quickly becoming serious. "They shouldn't bother you now, but just in case, I don't want you to make any sudden movements. We're gonna go slow and steady," I informed him. "I'm gonna go in front of you. If any of the corpses look like they're paying you too much attention, you let me take them out. Is that clear?"

"Crystal," he said. "Lead the way."

I glared at him for a moment, trying to decipher from his face whether or not he was being sincere. He looked back at me expectantly, and I secured my bags over my shoulder and started the walk down the stairs. No corpses were inside this time, and we quickly made our way down the stairwell.

My heart hammered loudly in my chest as we walked into the store. I prayed that I wasn't wrong about them not being able to smell Merle and that they wouldn't converge on him the second we stepped out of the stairwell. Merle followed close behind me.

I gingerly walked through the store, keeping my eyes out for any corpses that wandered too close. They all had looked up when Merle entered the room, sniffing the air with curious looks on their faces, but none headed our way.

My heart soared. It was working! I looked over my shoulder at Merle, bringing my finger to my lips to indicate him to be quiet. He nodded, a shit eating grin lighting up his face.

I led him out of the store, gingerly stepping through the doors of the entrance. The street was still full of corpses but now that we were in the open air, only the ones closest to us looked up and sniffed the air as we passed. I motioned down the street and took off at a slow pace, my eyes dancing around my surroundings for any sign of danger.

"Holy shit, it's working," Merle whispered from behind me once we reached a street that was reasonably clear of corpses.

"Yeah, but you need to shut up," I snapped, looking back at him with a glare. None of the corpses had looked up when he spoke, but he seemed like the kind of guy that couldn't shut up once he got started.

He fell silent behind me, and we soon approached the truck. I motioned to it with my hand, indicating that that's where he needed to head. I watched his eyebrows rise up to his hairline, obviously surprised at how much of a beast it was. I felt a tiny bit of satisfaction.

I watched him run around to the passenger's side, throwing the door open. "Take that shit off before you get in," I instructed him. "I don't want that it all over the interior," I explained, throwing open the driver's side and hopping into the seat. He nodded, shrugging out of the coat and tossing the gloves on the side of the road before hopping inside and closing the door.

"This is yer truck?" He asked, his tone disbelieving. He looked down at the shifter, his eyes widening. "Never met a woman who knew how to drive a stick."

"Well, you have now," I said, annoyance lacing my voice. "Where are we going? Where's your group located?" I asked.

"A few miles outside the city," he informed me. "Down in an abandoned rock quarry. Northwest of here."

I jammed the key into the ignition, roaring the truck to life. I shifted the gears before gunning the gas, taking off down the road in the direction I had come.

For the first time since I had lost Roy, my heart felt light. I had found someone, and now I was going to find a group of more survivors. I looked up at the sky as I drove, seeing that the sun was at its highest point of the day. I smiled a little at the pleasant warmth that tingled my arms and sighed contentedly.

All was well.

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><p><strong>AN: Well there it is! It was Merle that Avery found! I don't know about you all, but Merle getting left behind in Atlanta and forced to mutilate himself really tugged at my heartstrings. I know he's an asshole and I hated him when he beat the shit out of Glenn but...still. I thought about how divergent my story would be from the original if I changed that small detail, and a whole mess of plot stuff flooded my brain. I hope you all enjoyed the chapter, and I hope that you're looking forward to reading the next one!**

**In case anyone is wondering, Avery will meet up with the Atlanta group next chapter, and boy is it a doozy. It's already written, measuring at over a whopping 13k words. That being said, I've got an extra special surpise for you all for next chapter! Those who leave me a review will recieve a sneak peak as to what it is before the chapter is posted.**

**That's right. I'm not above bribery. Haha.**

**I know I have at least one faithful reviewer that choses to submit their reviews anonymously. If that describes you and you wish to recieve the sneak peak, please leave your email address in the review and I will send it to you that way.**

**Until next week~! xoxoxo**


	6. If I Knew What Was Good For Me

**Author's Note:**

**As always, thank you to all those reading this story. I appreciate that people are tuning in every week to read my work. An extra special thank you to those who took the time to let me know what they think: _Sama-Bama, 'H.', jazica, infamousfirstsuns, ObjectiveObserverFromAfar, TeamXtremexfan, sillygabby, Darkhairfurrytail, BlackNight86, werfla, Blitzwings sister, Jenns, Mrs. Sorbo, Mooka333, freestoner13, and MissDefender93_. Wow! I can't even believe the outpour of feedback from you guys! Lol. I should bribe you all more often! But on a serious note, I really can't express how much each one of your reviews mean to me. I put a lot of time into writing this and the only compensation I get is you all's lovely words of encouragement, so I appreciate it.**

**(Side Note to my lovely reviewer, Mrs. Sorbo-I'm very sorry that I was unable to send you a sneak peak! Your feature that enables Private Messaging on the site is deactivated. ): so it wouldn't allow me to reply to your review. In the future, you might want to turn that on!)**

**Real life sucks. My car took a shit on me and I've spent all week looking for a replacement. Yikes. I still hope to have the next chapter up next week, even though my writing has been uber affected by this turn of events.**

**Standard Disclaimer: I do not own _The Walking Dead_. I bow to the copyright of AMC and Robert Kirkman. The only thing I own are my OC characters and their likeness.  
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**Special Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed in this work of fiction do not reflect those of the author. This story is rated M and is intended for mature audiences only.**

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><p>.<p>

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**Daryl Dixon POV**

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I was having a shitty ass morning. I'd been out here in the woods since early yesterday afternoon, trying to track a deer. _Trying_ was the key word. I'd managed to get a few arrows in the stupid animal's side, but the fucker had nine lives. Took off running after each one, and sent me back to square one each time.

I kept my eyes open for any movement, stepping lightly on my feet to avoid snapping any branches or making any sounds that would scare away the wildlife. My eyes landed on a tree, watching as a small squirrel climbed up the side. I aimed my crossbow and took the shot, nailing the thing right in the brain. I walked over to it, pulling my arrow out and securing the squirrel's body to the line I had the rest of them on.

I surveyed the ground, keeping an eye out for the deer's tracks once again. I had plenty of squirrels, enough that I could go back to camp and be praised as an All-Mighty Hunter, but I continued on anyway. For some reason, I really wanted to nail that deer and bring it back to camp.

Maybe it was out of guilt. When Merle and I had come across this group of people, the course of action had been obvious to my older brother. He wanted to stick around long enough to get them to trust us and then one night we'd rob them blind. I had even agreed that it was a good plan and went out of my way to hunt for the group and bring back my kills. There's no better way to make a group trust you than to put food in their bellies, that's for sure.

My brother had a harder time of it. He was no tracker, didn't know how to hunt for shit. Never had the patience for it. His mouth got him into a lot of trouble with the group, and did nothing as far as making them trust us. That's why he had volunteered to go on a run into the city with a few of the others for supplies. To show them that he was just as useful as the next guy. He told me when he left that the night he got back would be the night we'd steal their shit and take off.

It was a reasonable plan, and I knew we'd be able to pull it off, no problem. The only thing was, now that we'd been hanging around these people for a few weeks, I wasn't so sure I wanted to follow through with the plan. These were good people, for the most part. There were families here. Mothers, fathers, children. All of them just trying to stay alive. They had taken me and Merle in, no questions asked. They might have looked at us a little funny and probably talked shit behind our backs, but who didn't? We were just a couple of white trash hicks to them. Or at least, we had been. Maybe it was stupid of me, but I felt like at least some of them looked at me with something other than disgust or indifference.

I watched their faces whenever I brought food back. The kids, especially. The way all of them lit up and smiled at me like I was the greatest man alive for bagging a couple of squirrels or a rabbit or whatever was really something else. It made me feel things that I hadn't felt my whole life. Like I was an important member of society. Like I was needed and respected.

If I were to tell Merle this, he'd call me a pansy ass and then call me 'Darylina' for a couple days. He didn't get it. He always looked out for himself first, himself second, and then maybe me third, if I happened to cross his mind. My brother was the toughest sonofabitch I had ever met but when it came to working well with others, he just didn't know what to do. Ever since we were little kids he had had this 'Top Dog' mentality, and fuck if it didn't get annoying as all hell sometimes.

I loved my brother. I would follow him no matter what, because that was all I had ever done. Unless he was locked up in some detention center or was out getting high as a kite on some hard shit, that is. But that didn't mean I had to agree with what he was doing. In fact, most of the time I didn't agree with the shit he pulled. It didn't stop me from doing it with him anyway.

I came across the deer's tracks again, glad to see that it was having a hard time walking right. The next arrow I put in it would be the one to bring it down, I was sure. I followed the tracks carefully, taking out a few more squirrels on my way when the sound of screaming reached my ears.

"_Mama! Mommy!_" I heard a child's frightened voice echo through the woods.

More commotion followed and I cursed to myself. I started heading towards the sound of the screams, telling myself that the only reason I bothered was because the tracks were heading that direction anyway.

The noise stopped suddenly, and I figured that meant that everyone was okay. I mentally rolled my eyes at myself. I needed to stop worrying about these people. They were nothing to me.

I continued to follow the deer tracks, glad to see that it had been dragging itself around this area. That meant that one of my arrows must be getting to it. I might not even have to fire another one from the look of it.

Noises reached my ears again, the grunts and cursing of men. Annoyance came over me. They were too close to the fucking deer tracks, probably scaring the damn thing off again. I needed to find it and get my arrows out of the thing, and I was about to be real fucking pissed if I had to track it around all over this damnable quarry again.

I came to a small clearing, peaking my head through the treeline. I saw a group of men surrounding a Walker that they had roughed up a good bit, staring down at it. I recognized the faces of the douchebag cop and the Chinaman, as well as the face of Jim and the old man, Dale.

My eyes scanned to the left of the Walker on the ground and felt my vision turn red. "Sonofabitch! That's my deer!" I cursed, walking toward the deer that the Walker had apparently decided to take a chuck out of, "Look at it. All gnawed on by this...filthy, disease-bearing, motherless poxy bastard!" I growled, walking over to the corpse and giving it a good kick for every adjective I used to descibe it. I'd just wasted almost a full day of my life tracking this fucking deer all over creation, and this fucking piece of shit Walker comes along and fucks everything up.

The old man, Dale, spoke up, using that soothing, patronizing voice that all men over sixty have, "Calm down, son," he said. "That's not helping."

That was the wrong thing to say to me. I looked up and took several steps towards him. "What do you know about it, old man?" I asked angrily. "Why don't you take that _stupid_ hat and go back to _On Golden Pond_?" I snapped, getting in his face for a second before remembering I had more important shit to deal with. He didn't say anything else anyway, instead choosing to look at me with a dumb look on his face. Stupid old bastard. I'd like to see him spend all day in the woods.

I looked back to the deer, sighing. I kneeled down to my haunches, observing the damage. "I've been tracking this fucking deer for miles," I complained, pulling my arrows out of its flesh. "Gonna drag it back to camp, cook us up some venison," I explained. I touched the wound where the walker got it, right up on the neck, before looking over my shoulder. Everyone was looking at me weird. "What do you think? Do you think we can cut around this chewed up part right here?"

Shane sighed, shaking his head at my suggestion. "I would not risk that," he said, sounding disappointed. Of course he did. If I had managed to bag this deer, he would've had the best dinner he's had in weeks. He sure as fuck didn't know how to hunt.

I sighed, disappointment washing over me. "That's a damn shame," I remarked. I shrugged it off, remembering that my hunt wasn't completely unsuccessful. "I managed to get some squirrel-about a dozen or so," I told them. "That'll have to do."

Suddenly there was a noise from the ground. I looked down to see that while they had decapitated the Walker, no one had bothered to brain it. "Come on, people. What the hell?" I said, aspirated. I pulled my crossbow off of my back, taking aim at the head and pulling the trigger. I couldn't miss from this distance, and the shot landed neatly in the eye. I walked over to it, putting my foot on the head for leverage before pulling my arrow free. "It's gotta be the brain. Don't y'all know nothing?" I asked, before heading back to camp without another word.

"Merle!" I called once I neared camp. I stopped at one of the fire pits, shrugging the rope that had the squirrels on it off my shoulder. "Merle! Get your ugly ass out here! I got us some squirrel. Let's stew 'em up."

He never responded, and I heard a voice from behind me. "Daryl, just slow up a bit. I need to talk to you," I looked around and saw it was Shane, the group's unofficial leader.

A feeling of nervousness fell into the pit of my stomach, and I stopped short. "About what?" I asked, keeping my voice steady.

Shane sighed, running his hand along his facial hair as he walked closer. "About Merle," he said, and I really didn't like the sound of his voice. "There was a–there was a problem in Atlanta," he explained, hand going to his side. He looked down at the ground.

A sense of numbness fell over me. A problem in Atlanta? I looked around quickly and saw that everyone else from the trip was back. Andrea, Glenn, Morales, T-Dog and Jacqui. Everyone but Merle. "He dead?" I managed to ask.

"We're not sure," Shane said vaguely.

Anger flooded me again. "He either is or he ain't!" I snapped. The fuck kind of answer was '_We're not sure_'?

Suddenly, a man I'd never seen before came up behind me, "No easy way to say this, so I'll just say it," he said.

"Who the fuck are you?" I asked. I'd never seen this man before in my life and he was way too much of a clean-cut, pretty boy to be Merle's acquaintance.

"Rick Grimes," he told me.

"Rick Grimes?" I repeated, mockingly. What the fuck kind of name was that? "You got something you wanna tell me?" I asked, not sure why the fuck this guy was butting into the conversation.

"Your brother was a danger to us all," he said simply. "So I handcuffed him on a roof, hooked him to a piece of metal. He's still there." Fucker said this with the straightest face I'd ever seen, as if he were talking about the weather.

I had to step back and turn away from his ugly face. "Hold on," I managed to get out. "Let me _process_ this," Sweat dripped into my eyes and I wiped the back of my hand against my eyebrow before turning back around to look at this _Rick Grimes_ asshole again. "You're saying that you handcuffed my brother to a roof?" I asked, looking at his face. He didn't flinch as my volume rose. "And you left him there?!" I yelled, not believing my ears.

The fucker had the gall to nod, before saying a simple, "Yeah."

Anger overwhelmed me, and I chucked my hunting gear at his stupid, ugly face. The next thing I knew, I felt Shane running at me like a linebacker, pushing me down with his momentum. My vision went red and I reached for the knife I had sheathed in my belt. These fuckers had left my brother to die, and then they had the fucking balls to try and tag team me? I wasn't fucking around. I leaped to my feet, lunging my blade at Rick's face. He stepped back, avoiding my knife. Next thing I knew, Shane was sneaking up behind me and putting me in a choke hold like some pussy ass bitch, and Rick was knocking the knife out of my hand.

I was forced to the ground, struggling to fight back even though I wasn't able to breathe much.

"Okay, okay, let's calm down," Shane said from his position above me.

"You best let me go!" I snarled, kicking and clawing at the arm he had pressed firmly against my airway.

"Nah, I think it's better if I don't," the cocky fucker quipped. Anger and hatred washed through me. I'd like to see this fucker in a real fight, when it wasn't two on one and he didn't use pussy ass moves like sneaking up behind someone. I struggled uselessly.

"Choke hold's illegal, you sonofabitch," I gasped out.

"You can file a complaint," he snarked back. Stupid asshole. I struggled more, trying to do anything I could to get out of it. Fucker was strong, that's for sure. "C'mon, man. We'll keep this up all day."

Rick's shithead face appeared before me, crouching down before me while his buddy choked the life out of me. "I'd like to have a calm conversation on this topic," he told me, getting right in my face. I realized then that this bastard was a cop, too. Great, just what I needed. Another fucking pig on my hands. "Do you think we can manage that?" he asked. I said nothing. I wasn't about to bow down to this fucker. Shane could choke me till I passed out for all I cared. "Do you think we can manage that?" he asked again after I didn't answer. I merely stared at him, wishing looks could kill and that he would drop dead.

Suddenly, I felt Shane's arms release me, pushing me hard into the dirt as he did so. I gasped, clawing at the dirt as I tried to catch my breath.

"What I did was not on a whim," Rick told me. "Your brother does not work and play well with others."

"It's not Rick's fault," another voice piped up. I looked and saw that it was T-Dog. "I had the key," he told me, "I dropped it."

"You couldn't pick it up?!" I demanded.

"Well," he started, frowning. "I dropped it in a drain," he said. At least he had the decency to look like he felt bad.

My breathing was erratic and I felt my anger rise again. I clawed at the dirt with my hands, trying to get it under control. I struggled to my feet, throwing the dirt I had collected in my hand back to the ground. "If that's supposed to make me feel better, it don't, " I snapped.

"Well, maybe this will," T-Dog shot back, sounding almost hesitant. "Look, I chained the door to the roof so the geeks couldn't get at him," he told me. "With a padlock."

"It's gotta count for something," Rick piped up from behind me. I swung my head around to look at him in disgust. They had left my brother tied to the roof. They'd left him behind. I knew he was an asshole, but no one deserves that. But it was supposed to be okay because they had secured the door? So what? So my brother could die of exposure, all alone? My frustration and anger reached an all time high and I felt tears form in my eyes at the image of my brother. I wiped them away furiously, hating to show any kind of weakness in front of these people.

"To hell with all y'all," I growled, motioning to the whole group. "Just tell me where he is," I demanded, hating the way my voice shook. "Tell me where he is so I can go get him," the hell if I was gonna let my brother die of thirst. I didn't have it in me.

Suddenly, one of the chicks standing by the RV spoke up. Lori, I think her name was. "He'll show you," she said, her eyes glaring daggers at Rick. "Isn't that right?"

Rick was silent for a moment, looking around as if trying to build up the nerve to speak. Pussy-whipped bitch. "I'm going back," he finally said. I watched Lori's face harden before she turned around without another word, heading back into the RV.

Silence permeated the camp, and I went off near mine and Merle's tents, needing to get away from these people. I couldn't believe that not even an hour ago, I was feeling bad for planning to rob them. How fucking stupid was I? These people didn't deserve my pity. They fucking left my brother stranded like an animal and acted like it was a chore to have to go back and get him. Fuck 'em. I was gonna rob them blind and enjoy every fucking minute of it once I got Merle back.

After not too long, Rick approached me with Shane following close on his heels.

"Well, I don't, Rick," I heard him say. "So would you just stop and explain it to me? Throw me a bone here. Why would you risk your life for a douchebag like Merle Dixon? " he demanded.

"Hey," I snapped from where I was, my grip tightening on my crossbow as I felt my anger rise again at his words. "Choose your words more carefully," I warned him.

He looked at me like I was an annoying bug. "No, I did. Douchebag's what I meant," the bastard had the gall to say before looking back to Rick. "Merle Dixion," he said, sounding like the name tasted bad in his mouth. "The guy wouldn't give you a glass of water if you were dying of thirst."

"What he would or wouldn't do doesn't interest me," Rick replied. "I can't let a man die of thirst–me. Thirst and exposure," he told Shane, who looked disgusted with the whole deal. Rick continued, "We left him like an animal caught in a trap. That's no way for anything to die, let alone a human being," he said, and I cringed at the image his words provided.

Lori, who had appeared again outside, spoke up. "So you and Daryl? That's your big plan?" she asked, her annoyance clear in her voice.

Rick took a deep breath, before turning around to face the Chinaman, Glenn. Rick said no words, but the Asian kid obviously understood Rick's unspoken question.

"Oh, come on," the kid complained.

"You know the way," Rick began. "You've been there before. In and out, no problem. You said so yourself," he said, and I watched Glenn's reaction. He looked anything but enthused. "It's not fair of me to ask, I know that," he continued, "but I'd feel a lot better with you along. I know she would too," he added, motioning back to his wife.

I rolled my eyes. That was a low blow, even for a cop. The kid was barely twenty, if that. He was young and easily manipulated, and Rick played him right into his hand.

"That's just great," Shane spoke up from the sideline. Anger was clear in his voice. "Now you're just gonna risk three men, huh? Is that how this is gonna go down?"

"Four," I heard T-Dog speak up and I huffed, annoyed.

"My day just keeps getting better and better, don't it?" I asked sarcastically.

T-Dog had the balls to glare at me. "You see anybody else here stepping up to save your brother's cracker ass?" he asked, his voice calm.

"Why you?" I asked. He was the one who fucking dropped the key in the first place.

"You wouldn't even begin to understand," he told me as I cleaned off my arrows, his voice patronizing. "You don't speak my language," he said. I rolled my eyes.

"That's four," I heard Dale speak up.

_Bravo, old man. You know how to count,_ I thought acidly. I stayed silent.

"It's not just four," Shane interjected. "You're putting every single one of our lives at risk. Just know that, Rick," he condemned. He paused for a moment before opening his mouth again. Fucker just couldn't shut up. "Come on, you saw that Walker. It was here. It was in camp! They're moving out of the cities," he exclaimed. "If they come back, we need every able body we've got. We need them here, to protect camp."

"Seems to me what you really need most here are more guns," Rick quipped.

"Right, the guns!" Glenn exclaimed from the sidelines.

"Wait, what guns?" Shane asked, his tone completely changing. Piece of shit. Doesn't want to go out and look for my brother but throw _guns_ in the mix. I shook my head in disgust.

"Six shotguns, two high-powered rifles and over a dozen handguns," Rick told him. "I cleaned out the cage back at the station before I left," he explained. "I dropped the bag in Atlanta when I got swarmed. It's just sitting there in the street, waiting to be picked up."

"Ammo?" Shane asked.

"700 rounds, assorted," Rick replied.

"You went through hell to find us," Lori said from her position on the ground. "You just get here and you're gonna turn around and leave?"

There was a kid on the ground next to her that spoke up as well. "Dad, I don't want you to go," he said. For a moment, I could empathize with him. He just got his dad back and now risked losing him again. I felt for the kid. It wasn't his fault that his father was a sadistic bastard that left my brother to die.

"To hell with the guns. Shane's right," Lori continued. "Merle Dixion? Are you kidding me? He's not worth one of your lives, even with guns thrown in."

I wanted to snap off at her and tell her to shut her fucking mouth, but I held my tongue. If there was one thing my mom managed to beat into my head before she died, it was to never disrespect a lady. Even if she was being a cunt.

"Tell me," she said, standing after Rick didn't respond. "Make me understand," she demanded.

Rick sighed, closing the distance between them. "I owe a debt to a man I met and his little boy," he told her. Lori had a disgusted look on her face, and she looked away. "Lori, if they hadn't taken me in," Rick continued when she looked like she was about to interrupt him, "I'd have died. It's because of them that I made it back to you at all. They said they'd follow me to Atlanta," he told her. "They'll walk into the same trap I did if I don't warn him."

"What's stopping you?" she asked with a sigh.

"The walkie-talkie, the one in the bag I dropped," he explained. "He's got the other one. Our plan was to connect when they got closer."

"These are our walkies?" Shane pipped up from where he was, resting on his haunches near the ground.

Rick looked at him. "Yeah," he said simply.

"So use the CB," Andrea said, stepping into the conversation. "What's wrong with that?"

Shane sighed, looking disgusted. "The CB's fine," he spat. "It's the walkies that suck to crap. They date back to the '70s, don't match any other bandwidth, not even the scanners in our cars."

"I need that bag," Rick said after Shane's explanation. I spat on the ground. Here this fucker was spouting off how he couldn't leave my brother to die when in all actuality all he cared about was some stupid walkie-talkie.

"Uhh, hey guys?" Dale called down from the roof of the RV. I looked up to see that he had his binoculars pressed to his face, looking out at the road that lead to camp. "Looks like we've got company," he said, pointing.

I was on my feet in an instant, running to the RV to try to see from my positioning on the ground. Sure shit, I saw a dark blue Toyota Tacoma that was lifted far above its original height and had monster wheels to match heading down the road, drifting around the sharp turns like a pro. The truck slowed as it reached camp, spitting up gravel. I tried to see inside, but the windows were tinted too dark for me to be able to. It didn't matter. That truck screamed redneck and only one person came to mind when I looked at it. Merle. He was back.

The people of camp reacted quickly. Within seconds of Dale's warning, they were all armed for a fight, some with guns or bats, others with thick sticks. It was a pitiful sight.

No one moved inside the truck for a moment until the passenger's side door swung open. I couldn't believe my eyes as I watched Merle climb out from that side. Relief filled me but confusion was there as well. Why was he riding bitch? And who was he with?

"Miss me, fuckers?" He called and I couldn't stop the grin that spread across my cheeks. I headed towards him, leaving the shitbrains that left him to die behind me.

"Jesus Christ, Merle! I thought you was trapped on some roof somewhere after these fuckers left you!" I exclaimed as I drew closer. "I was just about to come get your ass," I told him. I couldn't help but look at the truck, wondering who was behind the steering wheel. Whoever it was didn't make any move to get out.

"I was," he said, looking past me to glare daggers at Rick over my shoulder. "Officer Friendly and T-Dog over here left me to die in the hot Georgia sun. Well joke's on you, fuckers, cuz here I am! Can't get rid of me that easy, ya pussy ass, little cowards," he cussed at them angrily, but I was surprised. The Merle I knew would have come out of that truck swinging, beating some ass before he took the time to gloat.

"How'd you get off the roof?" Rick asked, though he made no move to come close.

"Better question, who's driving that truck?" Shane growled, pointing the gun at the windshield threateningly. "Hey you, in the truck! Get out with your hands up!" he yelled, cocking his gun and loading the chamber.

"Hey now, you watch yer filthy mouth when yer talking to my little Birdie, ya sorry piece of shit," Merle said, lunging for Shane. After being on the wrong side of Shane's strength myself today, I had the sense to hold him back.

"Not now, brother," I said, pushing back against his chest. "Who's in the truck?"

"That's Avery," he told me. "The girl who saved my ass off the roof," he turned around, waving at the truck. "C'mon, come say hi and meet the pieces of shit that left me to die," he called, almost cheerfully.

I felt my eyebrows rise into my hairline. Did I just hear him right? That was a _girl's_ truck? A _girl_ had saved him from that roof? I watched the truck, waiting for the door to open to see what she looked like. I was picturing one of those women that you have a hard time trying to figure out if they were a man or woman, some bull dyke that acted more like a dude than most men did.

Boy, was I fucking wrong. The driver's side door opened, and I saw a flash of long, blonde hair before it disappeared. I heard feet hit the gravel and watched as she appeared around the side of the truck.

The first thing I noticed was how small she looked standing next to her behemoth of a vehicle. Her head barely cleared the top of the hood. The next thing I noticed was her legs. She was wearing cut off shorts that barely reached mid-thigh, revealing tan, shapely specimens that went on for miles. My eyes scanned to her face, taking in her graceful, attractive features in shock. Thick, pink lips leading to a cute, button nose. Big, bright blue eyes that stood out against the tan of her skin like light bulbs, with dark lashes framing them despite the obviously natural blonde hair that spouted from her head.

I was never the most romantic of guys. I was never one to chase tail for sport like Merle did, either. I could count with two hands how many girls I'd fucked and count how many of those I'd actually been attracted to on one, but lust came over me like a wave when I saw her. It caught me completely off guard and I found myself simply staring, mouth hanging open slightly.

I watched as she made her way to the front of her truck, leaning casually against the grill with her hand resting on the gun holster that hung at her belt. She stared at all of us in silence, taking in the state of our camp and the weapons she had pointed at her with a face that was as hard and unforgiving as stone. And fuck if it wasn't the sexiest thing I'd ever seen.

I managed to pull my eyes away from her to look at the rest of the camp, unsurprised to see that almost all the men were looking at her similar to the way I was. I felt jealousy form in my gut. It was stupid and ridiculous as I hadn't even spoke a word to her. All I knew was I didn't like it.

"You saved my brother?" I managed to ask after a few minutes of everyone staring awkwardly at the poor girl. Her face didn't give away any signs of discomfort, but I could tell from the stiffness of her body that she was not enjoying this awkward stare down.

Her eyes snapped to me, and I felt my cock twitch at the intensity of her stare. Holy fuck! I needed to get my shit under control. "Yeah? What of it?" she snapped defensively. Even her voice was sexy. Goddamn.

"How'd you even find him?" I looked over to see that it was Glenn asking the question.

Avery snapped her eyes to him next and I watched his yellow skin blush. "I heard him screaming," she said, her tone like acid. "People tend to do that when they're left out in the sun to cook alive."

For the first time, I saw the faces of the group look genuinely guilty. I wanted to punch the air in joy. She was pissed and she let them know it. If some little girl had gone in and been able to clean up those fucker's dirty work, something was seriously wrong. And now they knew it.

"How'd you get through the chain?" This time it was T-Dog who asked.

She looked at him like he was the stupidest motherfucker alive. "I cut through it, obviously," she rolled her eyes. "Can you guys get those fucking guns off of me? You're making me antsy," she requested.

Immediately the group lowered their weapons, most looking ashamed that they had even still had them raised. Once they were lowered, I saw some of the tension leave her shoulders.

"How'd you get past the Walkers?" Rick asked, stepping forward.

The girl shot Merle a glare that could scare the dead when he went to open his mouth to reply. He paused after making eye contact with her, clearing his throat before he shut his mouth.

Now I was fucking amazed. This little girl, getting Merle Dixon to shut the hell up? I'd never seen Merle listen to anyone. Fuck, he didn't even listen to me and I'd known him all twenty-six years of my life.

"Covered us in corpse goo," she said shortly, looking back to Rick. "Walked right out of there, easy peasy," her voice was stiff and I could tell she was lying. Rick could too.

"Somehow, I don't think that's the full story," he said, stepping closer to her. "Wanna try again?" he asked, patronizingly.

I watched anger spread across her features, and she pushed herself off the truck and closed the distance between her and Rick. She was shorter than him by at least a head, but that obviously didn't bother her. "Excuse me?" she asked, getting close to his face. "The fuck did you just say to me? I just saved your man and brought him back to you, and you have the _audacity_ to act like I owe you _anything_?" she spit on the ground by his feet in disgust before looking at him again. "You must be Officer Friendly, the guy who left Merle chained to a roof like an animal. You've got to be. I can smell a pig a mile away. Thinking you can do whatever or say whatever you want cuz you have a fucking badge to hide behind," she laid into him.

I looked at Merle, eyes wide. He caught my stare and grinned, looking to Avery and back to me before wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. His question was clear. '_You like what you see, little brother?'_ I didn't reply, choosing instead to look back to the girl's interaction with Rick.

"You know, I haven't seen another human in weeks. _Weeks_," she said. "When I found your guy Merle here, I thought I'd finally found what I was looking for. I should've known better than to expect anything from a group that leaves one of their own men behind. If you all are the last humans left, I'd rather stay on my own," she snapped, turning her shoulder to Rick and heading back to her truck without another look back.

"Wait!" I looked over to see that it was Lori who spoke. Avery paused, looking back at her. Lori looked at Rick scathingly. "What's wrong with you?" she demanded at him. "You all should be ashamed of yourselves. This girl goes out and does what you all were about to and you question her like some suspect," she scorned, looking at Rick in particular. He managed to look guilty. "I mean look at her, she can't be older than fifteen. You're just gonna let her leave?"

I felt my stomach drop. Fifteen?! The fuck? My inner monologue of curses was interrupted by the sound of the girl's voice.

"Hey! What the fuck? I'm almost eighteen, lady," she protested, annoyed. I sighed in relief. Almost eighteen was a lot better than fifteen. I felt like a fucking pedophile for a minute there. Still did, to be completely honest. Seventeen, _really_?

Suddenly, I saw Dale step forward. His mouth hung open in shock, staring at the girl like he was seeing a ghost. "Avery?" he called out to her. "Avery Charkov?"

At the sound of her name, her eyes snapped to Dale's face. I watched as she glared at him before her gaze slowly melted into one of recognition. Her mouth fell open in shock, "Mr. Horvath?" she questioned hesitantly. Dale nodded and I watched her face morph from a mask of anger to the prettiest, widest smile I'd ever seen.

"Holy shit!" she exclaimed, ducking around Rick's frame and running full blast at Dale. I watched her practically jump in the air as she went to engulf the old man in a hug. She hugged him tightly, as if he was the greatest thing she'd ever seen. Never thought I'd find myself being jealous of an old geezer. "What are you doing here? I'd thought you retired and started driving your RV across the country–oh," she said as she pulled away from him, her eyes falling to the the RV in question.

"It's so good to see you," Dale said with a smile.

"You too. I can't believe it!" she exclaimed, her eyes never once leaving his face. "What are the odds?"

"Apparently, a lot smaller since the end of the world," he replied, smirking a little bit at his own dark humor.

"Hate to interrupt this touching reunion and all," Shane drawled, approaching them. I watched as his eyes traveled up and down Avery's frame suggestively as he walked up behind her, and felt the urge to punch him in the throat. Of course, Avery didn't notice, her full attention on Dale. "You know her?" he asked Dale. Avery stepped to the side, still tucked under Dale's arm and her hand around his back in a half-hug.

"Of course I do," Dale told him. "She was one of my students, back when I was a teacher. A bright one, too!" he told us, before looking back at her. "I hope that hasn't changed," he added seriously.

"I was going to graduate with honors and got accepted into college for this fall, Mr. Horvath," she told him with a smile, and I had to stop myself from rolling my eyes. The girl was beautiful, drove that truck like a pro, cursed like a sailor, and was smart to boot? What fucking planet had she come from? "Not that it matters anymore," she remarked as an after thought, her face falling.

"Of course it does, Avery," Dale scolded her gently. "Hard work always matters, even if it doesn't turn out the way you expected it to," he told her.

I watched her pull away from him, rolling her eyes. She didn't say anything else and it appeared now that she had gotten over the shock of seeing a familiar face, she was pulling back into her shell. She crossed her arms across her chest, her eyes finally falling on Shane's close figure. Apparently she thought he was standing too close because she took two deliberate steps back.

"Well if you vouch for her, of course she can stay," Shane remarked with a smile, turning his pretty boy charm on the girl. She grimaced.

"Hey!" I heard Merle yelled from his spot beside me. I watched a majority of the camp startle at the harsh sound of his voice. "Remember me over here? The man you sonsofbitches left for dead?!" he lunged forward, heading towards the group, T-Dog in particular.

I watched as Shane and the Rick guy came around to block his path, the little Asian guy stepping up to shield T-Dog as well.

"Merle, you slow down," Shane warned, raising his gun once Merle failed to listen.

"Let's talk about this, nice and calm," Rick said in a placating voice. "We never meant to leave you behind, Merle. I tied you on that roof fully intending to set you loose once you settled down," he told my brother.

Merle didn't hesitate at the sight of the gun. He probably didn't notice it in his fit of rage. He walked right up to Rick, cocking his arm back before clocking him full in the face. My brother was a big boy and was like a bull when he was mad, taking out everything in his path. It didn't matter if you were friend or foe when he got like this, if you got in his way, you _were_ gonna get pummeled. I chose to stay back, raising my crossbow instead and aiming it at Shane's head in case his triggerfinger decided to get jumpy.

It didn't. For all he was a sniveling little prick, I guess he didn't have it in him to shoot an unarmed man. He cursed when he saw my brother get at Rick, throwing his gun to the ground. Merle was on top of Rick now, pummeling into his face with his meaty fists. Shane came up behind him, securing his arms around my brother's throat the way he had done to mine earlier.

I couldn't help but think it was probably for the best, despite the fact that it pissed me off to see my brother manhandled by some shit cop. If Shane didn't stop him now, Merle would probably beat Rick beyond recognition. I looked over and saw that Lori and her kid were off to the side, watching the scene unfold. Tears were streaming down the poor kid's face as he clung to his mom, watching his dad get beat. No kid should see that.

"Hey!" I looked over to see that the new girl had moved away from her spot near Dale, approaching the action and yelling at the top of her voice. "Choke hold is illegal!" she yelled, coming at him with a closed fist aimed for his face. "Let him go!"

I watched as her fist connected with Shane's face, though it didn't appear to bother him much. He simply looked at her with shock that slowly melted into anger. He couldn't do anything in retaliation, dealing with a struggling Merle in his arms. I watched with satisfacion as he struggled to control my brother. It was more of a fair fight than ours had been, that's for sure.

Realizing that her fists weren't getting the message across, she dug into his eyelids with her thumbs, applying pressure there. Shane yelled in a mixture of pain and anger. "Get this bitch off of me!" he hollered.

I chose that moment to step forward, dropping my crossbow and heading fowards the fight. As douchey as it felt to do, I came up behind the girl, wrapping my arms around her waist before picking her up and hauling her away.

The girl was a scrapper, that's for sure. As soon as she felt my arms wrap around her and pick her up, she kicked outwards with her feet, trying to lunge away from me. "Get your hands off of me, you filthy piece of shit," she yelled, never taking her eyes off my brother and Shane. She couldn't have weighed more than a hundred and twenty pounds soaking wet, but what she lacked in mass she made up for in ferocity. She kicked at my shins and tried to elbow me in the face to get free, and I had to press my face into her back to avoid getting clocked in the head.

"Girl, you need to calm down!" I finally yelled, my mouth close to her ear. I couldn't help but notice how nice and soft she felt, and the way she smelled like sunshine. How the fuck did she manage that? Girl's in the middle of a zombie apocalypse and still managed to smell good?

At the sound of my voice, she finally looked back to see who was holding her. She looked surprised to see it was me, before her anger came back at full force. "Let me go! That's your _brother_. The fuck are you holding me back for?!" she demanded, clawing at my arms around her waist.

"I _know_! He's _my_ brother," I snapped, annoyed that she was still struggling and trying to get a piece of me. My shins ached from the force of the heel of her cowboy boots digging into them repeatedly. I turned my body with her in my arms in the direction of Lori and her kid. "You see them? See that kid? That's his father he just watched get beat. Understand?" I growled in her ear. I watched her face after I pointed them out to her, her rage slowly shifting to understanding. Most of the fight left her and her struggles ceased.

"Yeah, I get it," she said finally. I nodded, glad that she finally stopped kicking me in the shins. That shit hurt. After a moment, she looked back at me, quirking an eyebrow. "You can let me go now," she stated, looking at me expectantly.

I had forgotten that I still had been restraining her, simply enjoying the way she felt in my arms when she wasn't kicking the shit out of me. At her statement, I pulled my hands away from her, dropping her to the ground like a hot potato and stepping back, embarrassed. "Sorry," I said quickly.

She landed on her feet, pulling at her shirt to straighten it after it had rose up, exposing her midriff. Once she felt like her clothes were in order, she looked back at me with a curious look on her face. "It's alright," she told me, before turning back to look at the chaos unfolding around my brother.

Rick was up now, crouching in front of Merle just like he had done to me earlier, only this time there was blood on his face. Overall though, he didn't look too worse for wear. It looked like my brother had finally ran out of steam, no longer struggling. Shane still had him in a choke hold, but now I could see that the pressure wasn't as tense.

"I admit, I deserved that," Rick said. "If you had done to me what I did to you, I know I'd want more than a few good punches," he told him. I was surprised that he sounded sincere in his understanding. "But I swear to you, we were coming back to get you. Me, Daryl, Glenn, T-Dog. We were just about to leave when you showed up."

"Well ain't that real fucking _convenient,_" Merle managed to wheeze.

"It's the truth, Merle," I called. "We were just about to leave when you guys got here. Don't let these fuckers fool you, though. You were just a side event. All they really cared about was some guns they dropped," I told him.

"Now that sounds 'bout right," Merle replied. "Let me go, fucker. I'm done," he told him. Again, I was surprised. Merle never gave up in a fight until either the guy he was going at was down on the ground and not getting back up or the cops showed up to haul his ass to jail.

Shane begrudgingly let him loose, and Merle stayed down, arms resting on his knees as he caught his breath.

"Wait, did you say you dropped a bag of guns?" Avery pipped up from beside me, stepping forward once again.

Rick turned around to look at her before answering. "Yeah, I dropped a bag full of of 'em in Atlanta," he told her. "I got swarmed, had to hide in a tank until Glenn saved me."

Avery's eyes widened in surprise. "This bag you dropped, what's it look like?" she asked suspiciously.

Something in her tone of voice made Rick stand and walk towards her, stopping about five feet away. "Black bag, says Sheriff on the side. Had six shotguns–"

"–Two high-powered rifles, over a dozen handguns and a shit ton of ammo?" she interrupted him. He stopped short, looking at her curiously.

"How'd you know that?" he asked after a moment of staring at her like a dumbstruck fool.

She didn't say anything, merely sighing before turning around and heading back to her truck. She grabbed the side paneling, placing her foot on the tire and using it as leverage to pull herself up. She bent over at the waist, reaching for something I couldn't see in the bed of the truck. I admired the view of her ass, unable to stop myself from looking at how her shorts rode up as she leaned forward. From my angle, I could see just a hint of the pink lace of her underwear.

What the fuck was wrong with me? This girl wasn't even legal yet. I might have done a lot of shitty things before the end of the world, but fucking around with jail bait hadn't been one of them. I mentally shook myself, tearing my eyes away from the sight.

Apparently she got what she needed because I heard her feet hit the gravel. I looked up again and saw that she carried the bag Rick had just described. She walked back to where she had been next to me, before throwing it down on the ground at Rick's feet.

"There you go," was all she said.

Silence permeated the camp once more. Rick stared at the bag of guns, and then back to Avery, then the guns. Finally, he dropped near the ground onto his haunches, opening the bag and looking inside. He looked back at Avery incredulously.

Avery went on the defensive. She wrapped her arms around her chest, eyes narrowing. "What?" she snapped after no one said anything. "I didn't know who it belonged to. I just picked it up in the street," she said. Her eyes scanned around the group, taking in the way they were all staring at her. "I didn't steal anything out of it, if that's what you're thinking," she snapped, her arms leaving her chest and dropping to her sides. Her hands tightened into fist by her thighs.

It was Glenn that stepped forward and spoke, "Don't get me wrong, I don't think you stole anything," he told her as he came up to Rick's side. "It's just–you said you were by yourself before you found Merle?" he asked, sounding hesitant.

"Yeah," Avery answered, nodding. "I've been myself for a while. I've been scavenging around for supplies, going place to place since all this shit started," she explained. I didn't know what it was, something about the way she said it so confidently, as if she had practiced it before made me think she wasn't being completely honest. "Heard on the radio a while back that there was a refugee camp in Atlanta and I came to find it, only it wasn't there."

"The refugee camp is a pipe dream," Glenn told her. "The place was overrun weeks ago."

"Yeah, I figured that out," Avery said, rolling her eyes. "What's your point?"

"Look, I'm not trying to piss you off or anything. I just don't understand. I've seen Atlanta. I know where Rick dropped that bag. There's Walkers crawling all over the place. How could you possibly have gotten it with no backup?" he asked incredulously.

Avery looked like she wanted to punch him in the face. Glenn seemed to catch the same vibe and he stepped back bit. "I know how to take care of myself," she said, and her voice sounded way too nonchalant. "And I know how to handle corpses. I saw a bag of guns and picked it up. What's the big fucking deal?" she asked, aggravated and looking at the ground while kicking at the dirt with her shoe. "I wasn't expecting the Spanish Inquisition here. Give me a fucking break, dude. I just ran all over the city to bring your man back and just so happened to find your guns, too."

"You're right," Rick spoke up, looking up at Avery. "Thank you," he told her sincerely. She shrugged off his thanks, continuing to stare at the gravel.

"So, can I stay?" she asked quietly. Her voice lost the hard edge it had had in it since she arrived, and I saw a glimpse of vulnerability that had to be buried deep inside her. After a moment, she looked up to see that Rick was staring at her in deep concentration.

"Of course you can, Avery," Dale said. "The matter's already been settled," he said with emphasis, looking pointedly at Rick and Shane. "Come on, come inside. We'll get you some food," he offered. She didn't look particularly enthused about the idea, but followed the old man inside nonetheless.

I walked over to my brother, holding out my arm for him to take. He gripped at my forearm, pulling himself up. The people of the camp watched us warily as we walked away from them, heading to the area our shit was set up in.

Once we were out of earshot from the others, I looked at Merle. Something was different about him since the last time I saw him, something I couldn't describe. It was in the way he carried himself, the look on his face. Something had changed inside my brother and I had a feeling it had a lot to do with the blonde girl currently inside of the old man's RV.

"What's your problem?" I asked, unsure of how to breech the subject with Merle. Me and my brother were never known for having many heart-to-heart conversations. Most times, we preferred to leave things unsaid and unresolved. We got along better that way.

"Ain't got no problem, lil' brother," was all he said. "Just glad to be alive, is all."

"I was gonna come get you," I told him. "I wasn't just gonna let you rot."

"I didn't know what those motherfuckers were gonna tell ya," Merle said as we reached our tents. "Didn't know if they'd tell ya what they really did or make up some shit story like a bunch of pussy, little girls. Didn't know if they'd give ya a reason to come lookin' for me."

I went to say something when Merle continued. "Right before Avery showed up, I was 'bout to saw off my own hand," he admitted, plopping into one of our camping chairs.

"What the fuck, Merle?" I exclaimed, trying to hold back the horror I felt at the mental image his admiytion brought forth.

"There was a saw up there that the stupid nigger left after he dropped the fucking key," Merle told me. "Ya got a smoke, lil' brother?" he asked randomly. I nodded, reaching into my front coat pocket and pulling out my pack before I handed it to him. He pulled out a cig and my lighter, bringing it up to his mouth and taking a long drag. "Didn't seem so crazy when I was up there. Out in the sun all day, cooking my fucking brain. There was Walkers at the door, tryin' to break through the chain. The saw was too dull to cut through the metal of the cuffs. It was fucked up."

I stayed silent, not sure what to say. It was fucked up but Merle was never one to take lame platitudes very well. I was still angry that the group had left him to rot, but now that he was back, I didn't know how to direct it. Normally I would just follow Merle's lead, but this time Merle wasn't leading anywhere. He was just sitting in that chair, smoking my cigarette and staring off into the distance like some schmuck.

"We ain't gonna rob these people, little brother," Merle said suddenly, after the extended silence.

I was shocked. "The fuck do you mean, we ain't gonna rob them?" I asked. "They left you to rot, Merle. They deserve to get their shit fucked up."

"Nah," Merle said, shrugging. "Ya know what I was doin' before Avery showed up?" he asked.

"Screaming? That's what that girl said," I guessed.

"Wrong," Merle said, taking the last drag on his cigarette before flicking it into the fire pit. "I was praying."

I felt my eyebrows rise into my hairline. Merle Dixon, praying to the Lord Almighty? Yeah fucking right. Merle never prayed. Said it was too much like begging and if there was one thing Merle didn't do, it was beg.

"Yep, there I was, chained to a pipe like some animal, praying to some God that don't exist. Pleading with him to help me, to show me the way. That's when I saw the saw, ya know," he told me. "Thought that was his way of showin' me what to do. Cruel bastard," he laughed a little, reaching into my pack and pulling out another smoke. I wanted to tell him to fuck off and give me back my pack but I stayed quiet. "Then I heard this sound from inside the door. Like bodies droppin'. Looked up and saw that the door was open, thought I was done for," he told me. "But instead of Walkers busting through, I saw her. This little fucking girl, busting through the door and securing it behind her. For a second, I thought she was an angel or somethin', can you believe it?" He shook his head. "Came over and the first thing she did was cut me loose. Me. This big dumb fucker that could have laid her out in a second if I wanted to. Just cut me loose, no questions asked. She seemed to realize that after a second and pulled her gun on me. Didn't shoot though. Just asked me my name and then gave me some water."

"How'd she even find you, then? You said you weren't screaming," I asked, confused as I tried to piece together what had gone down in Atlanta between her and my brother.

Merle shrugged, "Fuck if I know. She wouldn't tell me. Said I wouldn't believe her. All she said was that 'a little birdie' told her," he told me. "I'm telling ya, I've never seen anything like it. The way she led me outta there...fuck man, shit was insane," he shuddered a bit at the memory of it.

"Whatchu mean? I thought she said she just covered both of you in Walker guts," I asked.

Merle looked over at me, his eyes slightly wide. He shook his head almost imperceptibly, as if it was a motion just for himself, not me. He took another drag of the cigarette before looking at me with a mocking grin, "Ain't ya curious, brother of mine? Haven't heard ya ask this many questions your whole life," he mocked, flicking the cigarette butt in the firepit. "If I didn't know better, I'd say it was cuz of that fine piece of coose I brought back with me. I know ya like 'em feisty. She push your buttons good, lil' brother?" he laughed.

Embarrassment and annoyance flowed through me. I walked over to him and smacked him on the back of his ugly bald head, snatching my pack of cigs out of his hand. "I said you could have one, fucking ingrate," I growled before walking away from him. He simply laughed as I went, which in turn only pissed me off more.

I walked over to the line of squirrels I had dropped earlier in the day, sitting down to begin to skin and gut them. I was fucking starving and it gave me something to do other than stomp around like a little girl throwing a temper tantrum. I knew Merle wasn't telling me something and I knew it was about that girl. Not to mention, what the fuck was he doing talking about praying and God and all that shit? Biggest bunch of mumbojumbo I've ever heard come out of his mouth, and mind you, I've been around him when he was high as a kite and tripping balls.

And then all of a sudden he didn't want to rob these people? It was like I had stepped into the fucking Twilight Zone or some shit. Maybe the girl was a Body Snatcher and had replaced my brother with one of her Pod People. I supposed it could be possible. I mean, fuck, most of the world was populated by walking dead people–what's to say aliens weren't the next big thing?

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

Later that night, people were gathered around their respective firepits, swapping stories about times before everything went to shit. Normally I didn't bother with these types of things, never being one to sit around the fire and sing _kum ba yah_. The only reason I was bothering tonight was because the new girl and the old man were going on about back when he used to be her teacher. Some of the tales were pretty funny, a few even managing to make me almost crack a smile. Even so, I sat back and away from the group, listening but not really part of the conversation. Most of them didn't even notice me.

"You remember that time you went and reported me to the principal?" Avery asked, grinning at how quickly Dale's smile morphed into an expression of scorn. "Man, I really hated you that day. Got me suspended for a week! I went home and my mom beat my ass for it."

"What did you do?" asked Andrea's sister. Amy, I think her name was. Amy and Avery looked to be about the same age physically, Amy being perhaps a little older. We had never spoken, never had a reason to, but I got the strong feeling she disliked me. Even so, it was hard to imagine Avery and Amy being so close in age. Amy, for all that she might be older, had an innocent nativity about her that Avery lacked. Amy was the type of girl who had a plushy life before all of this, who was taken care of and didn't have to worry for nothing. Avery had the hard look in her eye that said she worked for everything she'd ever gotten. Just like me.

"You wanna tell them, Mr. Horvath?" Avery asked, looking up at him with a smile from her spot on the ground.

"I told you, Avery. Call me Dale," he told her. _Yeah, Avery. Call him Dale. You're makin' me feel old and creepy over here,_ I thought, grimacing.

I could tell that Dale was trying to stop himself from smiling, pulling some serious self control to keep the stern look on his face. "I found Avery here behind the dumpsters with some high schoolers from across the street doing drugs," he told the group. I was shocked. My eyes went to the girl, observing her by the light of the moon and the embers of the fire. She had a healthy look about her, her skin was unblemished and smooth. She sure didn't look like a junkie.

Avery snorted, rolling her eyes. "Jeesh, word it the worst way possible, why don't you?" she asked sarcastically. She turned her head back to face Amy, "He caught me puffing a joint. I'm not some crackhead or something," she assured the other girl.

"Drugs are drugs, Avery," the old man said and I rolled my eyes. I bet the crusty fucker had never smoked pot a day in his life. "I'm surprised you were as smart as you were, always smelling like the stuff. You're lucky you didn't fry your brain cells."

She rolled her eyes, laughing. "You got it wrong, Mr. Horvath. I'd never done half as good in school without it," she told him. "Fuck, you try sitting in first period Calculus and make sense of all those numbers without having a little bit of a buzz. When I didn't, it was like the teacher was talking in tongues," she told them. "Man," she moaned, her voice low and wanting. I don't think she realized how sexy the sound was, but I sure did. My cock did too, if the tightening of my pants was any indication. "What I wouldn't do for a joint right now!"

Laughter escaped the people around the fire. Even the the cop's wife and his kid chuckled a little, though Rick didn't crack a smile. I stayed silent, suddenly uncomfortable with the situation. I saw several people turn to look at me after she had finished speaking, as if they were thinking that I'd be the one she needed to ask if she were looking. And to be honest, I was, but these people didn't have any proof of that. I'd never so much as even toked in their general direction since I got here and it pissed me off that they saw me as some piece of shit drug dealer.

I stood up, walking away from the group and heading back to the area my tent resided. I wasn't tired but I needed to get away from these people. I picked up my crossbow before heading out toward the forest. It was shit to hunt in the dark but I didn't care. I needed to blow off steam and that's what I was going to do.

I stomped around the forest a bit, making too much noise to have any hope of bagging anything. I kept walking around camp until most of the noise had quieted down, meaning that everyone had finally gone to bed. I made my way back towards the treeline, planning on heading to my truck to toke a bowl now that everyone had gone to bed. I hadn't been smoking much lately since I knew that once I ran out there was no hope to re-up, but I needed some after the stressful day I had. My truck was parked on the very edge of the boundies of camp, facing outwards toward the road.

I hopped in the cab, closing the door quietly behind me and leaning over my center consul to reach for the glovebox, where I kept my stash. I sighed as I pulled a bud out of the bag, breaking it up in my hand before loading the bowl of my pipe.

Suddenly I heard a sharp knock on my window. It surprised the hell out of me and I jumped, knocking my pipe and the bowl I just packed onto the floor. Cursing, I looked up to see who had busted me. Surprisingly, or maybe not so much, it was the new girl standing there with a pissed off look on her face.

I rolled the window down, looking at her and trying not to let my annoyance show. "What?" I snapped.

"What?" she repeated. "Are you kidding me?" she asked. "I saved your brother's meathead ass today and I know you heard me talking about how I wanted to smoke. So what do you do? Walk off and wait till everyone goes to bed and then sneak back to smoke by yourself like some punk," she said, but there was no malice in her voice. In fact, she sounded almost...teasing?

I hadn't even thought of it like that. I'd simply needed something to calm my nerves after this long ass fucking day. I was edgy and pissed off and didn't know how to handle it without lashing out at people. Which I would have been perfectly okay with doing, except most times whenever I was lashing out, Merle was too. I generally followed his lead. But now that Merle was all off skipping into the sunset and picking daisies, I was stuck being pissed off and aggravated.

"Not to mention the way you manhandled me earlier," she added, leaning against the side of my truck expectantly. It was an innocent movement but it brought her face uncomfortably close to mine. "My ribs might never recover."

"Yeah, well tell them to take it up with my shins," I said. As if aware that they were being talked about, a flare of pain flowed up my legs. "You know, the ones you kicked the shit out of."

She cringed, guilt spreading across her features. "Yeah...I'm really sorry about that," she said quietly before biting her bottom lip, much to my dismay. "I didn't realize it was you and my emotions were running really high," she explained.

I didn't know what to say to her. I could tell that she was being sincere, but people didn't apologize to me very often and I didn't know what to do in this situation. We made eye contact for a brief moment and I could swear I saw a blush spread across her cheeks. I couldn't be sure because of the odd lighting, but I'd feel safe to bet on it.

"Well...sorry for sneaking up on you like that," she said after the silence continued for a span of minutes. "I guess I'm gonna call it a night. I'll catch ya later," she said, pushing off the side of my truck and turning around.

I watched her walk away, admiring her silhouette in the moonlight. If I knew what was good for me, I'd let her walk her fine ass to wherever she planned on sleeping and call it a night. Unfortunately, I was a fucking idiot.

"Wait," I called, watching her pause in her retreat and turn back around to look at me. "Get in," I said gruffly before rolling my window back up.

I watched her practically skip over to the passenger's side, throwing open the door and hopping in without another word. As soon as she closed the door, her feminine scent invaded the inside of my truck. I cleared my throat, leaning down to pick up the pipe that had fallen to the floor in front of my seat. I inspected it and saw that most of the weed was still in the bowl, due to me having packed it so tightly. I handed it to her with my lighter.

She took it with steady hands, "Oh wow, giving me the green hit? Such a gentleman," she remarked, a small smile gracing her features.

I said nothing, instead chosing to watch as she brought the piece to her mouth. The way her lips pursed around the pipe was way more enticing than it should have been. She lit the lighter and I watched as the cherry sparked to life inside the bowl. Her cheeks puffed out slightly as she took the hit, and I was confused as to why until she moved the pipe away from her lips. She opened her mouth to exhale and the smoke that escaped from her lips was still white and pure, the way smoke looked when you didn't inhale it all the way into your lungs. _She was faking_, I realized, disappointed. As the smoke danced around in the air before her, I watched as she suddenly inhaled it through her nose, the smoke quickly disappearing. Understanding filled me. She knew how to do an Irish Waterfall for maximum effect. My disappointment morphed into being impressed.

She handed me the pipe as she held the hit in, her sholders shaking with the effort. I took it from her. As soon as she handed it to me, she quickly exhaled before bringing her elbow up to her mouth to cover the coughs that racked her chest. I paused until her coughs subsided, watching as her eyes rolled up into her head and her body relaxed, a contented sigh escaping her lips.

"Holy fuck, that's some good shit," she said finally, opening her eyes and looking at me.

As soon as our eyes met, I looked away, down at the bowl in my hands, "'Course it is," I told her. "I don't buy shit weed," I said, bringing the pipe to my lips and taking a hit. I did mine the old fashion way. My lungs were too old and torn up to do any of the fancy trick shit she pulled.

"Did you sell it?" she asked once I exhaled. "Before all this shit went down, that is," she clarified.

I handed her the pipe, suddenly uncomfortable. "So what if I did?" I snapped, defensive.

She grinned, taking the pipe from my hands. Our fingertips brushed during the pass off, and I admired how soft her hands were. "Calm down, tiger," she teased. "I'm not here to judge. The guy my mom got her weed from was my favorite of all her drug dealers. He was a good guy," she told me before taking another hit.

I looked at her warily, trying to size her up. "What about her other dealers?" I found myself asking.

She exhaled, coughing a bit but not as much as she had her first hit. "Them guys, not so much. Fucking assholes. Hope they were turned into corpses and stabbed in the brain," she said vehemently, her sudden anger taking me by surprise.

We passed the bowl back and forth a few more times until it was beat. Avery was obviously feeling pretty good, her body the most relaxed I'd seen it since she got here. She made no motion to move as I cashed the pipe out the window.

I went to pack the bowl again when Avery looked over at me. "Oh no, it's okay," she told me, sounding guilty. "I'm good. One's enough. I've got a decent buzz and I'm not trying to smoke all your shit."

I looked up at her for a second before returning my gaze back to the bud I was currently breaking up. "I don't mind smoking you up, girl. Like you said, I do kinda owe you," I told her, feeling less uncomfortable now that the high was starting to reach my brain. "Plus I haven't smoked with anyone else but Merle since the world went to shit. It's nice to have someone to toke with that doesn't own a set of powerlungs. Makes it last longer."

She laughed, and I could tell it was a legitimate sound. It was a cute, weightless laugh that made my stomach do a little flip. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes at myself as I handed her the bowl so she could take the first hit. What was it about her that made me feel so fucking off kilter? It annoyed me and fascinated me simultaneously.

"Well, my services are available anytime you need a smoking buddy," she told me before sparking the bowl once more.

We smoked the second bowl and I found myself cashing it, keeping the window down once I was done to air out the truck. Avery followed my lead, rolling hers down as well and allowing a cool breeze to filter through the cab. I made no move to pack another bowl and I figured she'd leave, but to my pleasant surprise, she didn't. She merely repositioned her seat to lean farther back, stretching out tantalizingly as she sighed. Using the fact that her eyes were closed to my advantage, I shifted slightly in my seat, rearranging the buldge in my pants to rest at a more discrete angle.

Silence filled the truck. Her's was a contented silence, enjoying the feel of her high. Mine was contemplative as my eyes traversed her small frame curiously. Finally, I couldn't hold myself back from asking the question I'd been wondering all day.

"Why'd you save my brother?" I asked.

She opened one eye a smidge, before groaning. "Oh, c'mon, not you, too," she complained. "It's simple. I heard a man on the roof. I hadn't seen another human since-" she cut off for a moment, and a flash of pain appeared in her eyes. "I hadn't seen a human in a long time. Of course I was gonna save him, if I could. I couldn't just leave a man to die from exposure. I just didn't have it in me," she explained. "When he told me about you and the rest of the group, I almost couldn't believe my luck. It's really not that interesting of a story."

"Look, I'm not gonna beat around the bush with you, girl," I said suddenly. "I ain't gonna play the passive aggressive game Rick played with you. I know you're not telling the truth when you talk about what happened on that roof," I told her. I watched her eyebrows furrow together and anger spread across her face. She went to open her mouth to speak when I held up my hands in a signal of peace. "Like I said, I know it. You can deny it all you want, girl. It doesn't change anything. I ain't gonna try and force it out of you, but I will tell you that you need to work on your acting skills. Everyone knows something's up with your story."

I watched Avery falter in her anger once I told her I wasn't gonna try to force any information out of her. Instead, a small smile appeared on her face. When I commented on her dismal acting skills, she laughed, the cute little sound growing into a full grown laugh-attack. Apparently her high had come back to her once her anger faded.

"Alright, then," she said after she managed to stop laughing. She held her side as if there was a cramp there. "Now that my ego is officially bruised, I'm gonna go to bed. Thanks again for smoking me up," she said as she reached for the door handle.

"Don't mention it," I told her. "Seriously though," I added, "don't mention it."

She laughed again, "I won't. It'll be our little secret," she said, making the motion of locking her lips and throwing away the key. Normally I'd consider such a gesture to be really fucking dumb, but I had to hold back a grin at the sight of her preforming it. She charmed me, I'll admit.

She pulled open the door sliding out of her seat to the ground below. "Goodnight, Daryl," she drawled before shutting the door quietly without another word.

I sat back in my seat when she exited the truck, holding back a sigh that threatened to escape me. My thumbs tapped against the steering wheel in a steady beat and I found myself looking in my rearview mirror to watch Avery's retreat. She strolled across the grass, a slight sway leaking into her steps, as if she were unsure of her footing. The moonlight caught her hair and reflected against it, making it look almost silver. I watched as she paused in her gait before turning around to look back at my truck. I couldn't see what her facial expression was, but she looked at the truck for a long moment before eventually turning back around and continuing on her way.

I felt a breath that I didn't know I'd been holding leave my lungs in a harsh exhale. Fuck.

.

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><p><strong>AN: So there it is! The surprise was Daryl! **

**What did you all think of my depiction on him? I was very nervous to write this chapter for fear of him seeming too OOC. I had planned on writing this chapter in a third person narrative but ended up switching to first person. My reasoning was that Daryl is the type of person that shows very little on the outside; it's his inner monologue you really wanna see.**

**Oh, and also, yes, Dale is a retired teacher in this fic. It never told us what his profession was in the TV show and when I googled his comic book counterpart, it said he was an used car salesman. The fuck?! No. Lol. I had always thought that he had been a teacher or something before I googled and it worked well with the story, so I kept it. 'Cause I can. **

**What did you think? As always, let me know in a review!**

**See you all next week~!**


	7. There's Always A Price to Pay

**Author's Note:**

**Hi everyone! As usual, thank you to all of my readers! An extra special thank you to my kick-ass, beautiful reviewers of destruction: _Mooka333_, '_H._', _jazica_, _BlackKitsunePrincess_, _sillygabby_, _gabby871_, _Darkhairfurrytail_, '_Guest_', _BlackNight86_, _masseffectrulz_, _NOTagentsofnothing420_, _hideher_, _Elex Black_,_ somewhat-punk-rock_ and _MissDefender93_! Wow! I can't even believe how many of you left a review! I'm so appreciative, really. This chapter was a hard one to write and it would not have happened without you guys and gals.**

**There has been some concern expressed over the age difference between our girl Avery and our main squeeze, Daryl. Hold onto your bonnets, there will be no fun stuff between the sheets for a good long while. Definitely not until at least after Avery's 18th birthday. Not that that should really matter. It's the zombie apocalypse, for goodness sake. There's more pressing matters to be concerned over. Lol.**

**If when you get to the end of the chapter, you feel like it shouldn't have stopped there, you're absolutely correct. I originally wrote another scene for this chapter, but with it added the chapter was almost 20k words. That's just...too much. Anyways, I hope you're not too upset over it! (:**

**Standard Disclaimer: I do not own _The Walking Dead_. I bow to the copyright of AMC and Robert Kirkman. The only thing I own are my OC characters and their likeness.**

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><p>.<p>

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"Looks like you've got yourself a shadow," Amy pointed out to me, motioning behind us. I stiffened slightly before pretending to crack my neck, managing to peak behind my shoulder discreetly.

My eyes caught sight of who Amy was talking about and I quickly faced back to her, wishing I hadn't looked. "Oh, my god," I groaned, grimacing. "That's so awkward," I told her, shaking my head.

"Oh, come on," she said teasingly. "I think it's cute."

"Yeah, real cute, alright," I grumbled. I leaned back in the lawn chair that I sat in next to the RV, trying to ignore the feeling of being watched. I'd been with the Atlanta Group for about four days now, and tensions had been high for me.

It was something that I hadn't considered while I had been on my crazy adventure to find other humans. How fucking shitty I was with large groups of people.

I didn't come from a large family. It had always just been me and my mom. Sure, there was the never-ending stream of guys, but they were temporary. I was an only child, not that my mother was known to practice safe sex. No, I'd solved the problem of having more mouths to feed myself by tearing up her insides on the way out when I was born. I'd never had to share my privacy with other people before, and the experience was not an easy one for me. I felt like people were constantly staring at me no matter what I did. Oh, did Avery just push her hair out of her eyes? Let's look at her. Oh, was that her picking a wedgie from her ass? Let's look at her.

Now I had this little shitbrain following me around like a lovesick puppy dog. I needed a break, needed some space. I wished I could just hop in my truck and take off for a spin but I knew I shouldn't. Ever since I had arrived, I'd been looked at with suspicion.

It wasn't my fault that the stupid pig had been the owner of the bag of guns. I internally sighed, remembering how fucking dumbstruck I'd been when that Rick Grimes described the bag I had found in Atlanta to me in perfect detail. The same asshole that had chained Merle to the roof was the guy who dropped the bag. What were the fucking odds?

Of course I had to give it back. I wasn't a thief and I didn't need his guns. Had plenty of those myself, thanks to Roy. But when I'd thrown that bag at his feet, I'd forgotten something else that I was shitty at doing: lying. I was the worst fucking liar you'd ever meet. Always had been.

When I was younger and my mom caught me in a lie, she would beat the shit out of me until eventually I just quit the practice altogether. When I told the truth, I still got beat, but not nearly as bad. As I grew older she stopped being able to beat me if I were to lie to her but I never did. It had become a habit, and eventually a character trait. I didn't lie to anyone, even if they wanted me too. That's probably why I didn't have many friends before the end of the world.

Now though, I needed to lie. I didn't want all these people to know about the corpse's indifference to me. Nowadays, who knows what people would do with that kind of knowledge? I had a nightmare the other night that they had trapped me in a room with corpses just to observe them ignore me. Like I was some type of fucking entertainment. I took it as a sign that I had chosen correctly not to tell them.

It would have been fine if not for the guns. The story I had told them about using corpse guts to get out of Atlanta was a partial truth, so that hadn't been too difficult. But as soon as that bag of guns hit the ground, I knew that my story didn't add up anymore. I remembered where I had found that bag; corpses had been packed like sardines in the area. I had purposely avoided it when I had led Merle back to my truck because if we had passed through the crowd, the corpses would have converged on him. Too many in one place. That's why Rick had wanted to bring four people on their trip. Backup was a necessity nowadays. Well, for most people.

Thank god for Mr. Horvath. When I had seen him, I thought I was seeing another ghost. He had been my seventh grade English teacher, and my class had been the last one he had taught. He retired the next year due to his wife becoming ill. I had heard of her passing from one of my other teachers, and had been informed that he had bought an RV and planned to travel. I hadn't seen or heard of him since until I showed up at camp four days ago.

I knew he was the main reason that I had been allowed to stay here, especially after I went off on the two cops of the group. He had vouched for me and took me under his wing, not allowing any discussion of the matter. There wasn't too much fuss that he had to deal with, though. After the first night no one seemed to have a problem with me staying. But boy did they watch me like fucking hawks.

"What's his name again?" I asked Amy, remembering we were mid-conversation. Amy was one of the few people here whose intentions I had no suspicions towards, and I had found myself spending the most time with her. We were close in age as well, with her twentieth birthday being only two weeks or so away. She reminded me of the type of girls I got along with in high school; not pretentious or bitchy, more interested in spending her time looking for the cutest cat video on the internet than plotting how to steal your boyfriend. I couldn't ever see us being BFFs outside of the whole zombie apocalypse scenario, but everything considered she was alright.

"Carl. He's Rick and Lori's little boy," Amy told me before taking a drink from her canteen. "He's a sweet kid."

"How old is he? Like six? He follows me around everywhere like a little creep," I complained, doing my best to keep my voice down. I might be annoyed at the kid but I didn't want to hurt the little guy's feelings.

"He's nine, Avery. Give him a break," Amy said, rolling her eyes dramatically. "He's just got a little crush is all," she told me before hiding a smirk with her hand.

I felt a blush spread up my neck and I chucked my water bottle at her. It was without any real force and she deflected it easily, smacking it to the ground. "Shut up! He does not!" I argued, defensively. She didn't say anything, simply looking at me with a knowing look and smirk. I looked at her for a second before groaning, leaning forward and putting my head in my hands. "Ughh," I complained. "That's just great. Some four year old with a crush," I ranted.

"He's nine," Amy repeated, interrupting me. I ignored her.

"What am I supposed to do? It's annoying. He follows me around like a puppy. Should I talk to his parents or something? Make them get him to knock it off?" I asked.

"Oh, c'mon, Avery, don't be cruel," Amy scolded me. "Don't traumatize the poor kid. Didn't you ever have a crush on someone older when you were his age? It's harmless."

"No, I didn't," I said, uncomfortably. It was true, mostly. I never had a crush on someone older than me when I was younger but now...I flashed my eyes around camp to see if I could find his face. He wasn't around.

It was stupid. So stupid. Ridiculously stupid. Here I was bitching about Carl's little crush on me when the age difference between him and I was frighteningly similar to the one I had with the guy that I currently found my thoughts drifting to far too often. I repressed the urge to groan. What if he thought of me the way I thought of Carl? How fucking mortifying. Then again, I didn't follow him around camp all the time and be super obvious. I'd barely seen him since the first night.

"I think you're lying," Amy teased. "You're a crappy liar, Avery."

"Shut up," I told her, neither confirming nor denying. She was right, obviously.

"Carl!" I heard a voice say loudly from beside me, and I jumped. I looked over to see that Shane was standing beside me, his eyes trained on the back corner of the RV where my little stalker currently resided. "Boy, what're you doin' back there? Go on now, your mama's looking for you," he called. I looked over my shoulder to see Carl stumble out from his shitty hiding spot, his face beet red in embarrassment from being caught. He glared at Shane, his eyes flashing momentarily to me before he took off running without a word.

Once he was gone, I found myself looking back to Shane's form warily. He was standing there, arms at his waist with his fingers in his belt loops, looking down at Amy and I from our positions on the chairs. "Ladies," he drawled in greeting. I had to restrain myself from grimacing.

I couldn't stand this guy. I had no real reason to feel that way, as he had never done anything to me. On the contrary, I was the one who had assulted him. Something about him gave me the creeps though. I just couldn't put my finger on it. He was definitely one of the more attractive men of the group, with pretty boy good looks and dreamy eyes, not to mention that his body looked like it was carved from stone. I'd seen him without his shirt on a few times since I got to camp and holy fuck. His whole body was like a giant arrow sign pointing to his cock, and the girls around here definitely noticed. He was nice and respectful, too. Even apologized for calling me a bitch after I tried to gouge his eyes out.

Maybe that's why I didn't like him. He was too much. Too handsome. Too polite. Too responsible. Too cocky. Too perfect. Well, I didn't fucking buy it. No one gets the full package in life, even if it looked that way from the outside. There was something fucked up inside him, I had seen it. The handsome smile he flashed at people sometimes didn't match his eyes.

"Shane," Amy said amicably in reply. "How are you doing?" she asked, fluttering her eyelashes at him. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Could she get any more obvious?

"I'm doin' just fine, thank you. How's everything over here? You need anything?" he asked, sounding legitimate in his concern. See, that's the shit I was talking about. Too good to be true. It was a statement that I firmly believed in.

"Oh, no, I'm just fine, Shane," Amy said with a smile, tossing her hand at him. "Thanks for asking, though," she added.

He nodded at her before turning the full force of his gaze on me. I immediately dropped my eyes to the ground. "How are you doin' this afternoon, Avery?" he drawled.

"Just fine, thanks," I said, shortly. I fidgeted uncomfortably in my lawn chair, wishing he'd go away.

"Good to hear," he remarked, and his dry tone made me look up to see what his facial expression was. He was looking at me as though he were trying to figure out a riddle and it made me nervous. "Mind taking a walk with me? Got a few things I'd like to discuss with you," he asked.

I internally groaned. That sounded like just about the last thing I'd ever want to do. On the outside, I simply nodded. There was nothing I could do. I had quickly learned that Shane was the unofficial leader of this rag-tag group, and I didn't see anything good coming out of getting even more on his bad side. "I'll be right back," I told Amy as I stood. Hopefully if I told her it wasn't going to take too long, Shane would take the hint.

"No rush," Amy said, grinning at me and wiggling her eyebrows. "Take all the time you need," she teased. I rolled my eyes and huffed. _Thanks Amy. That's really fucking helpful_, I thought scathingly before turning back to Shane expectantly.

"Let's go this way," he gestured. I nodded, setting off that direction. As I passed him, I felt his hand brush against the curve of my back, as if trying to direct me. I looked over my shoulder and glared at him and he quickly retracted his touch, putting his hands up as if in surrender.

I looked back forward and he came up beside me as we walked. As we approached the treeline and he still hadn't said anything, I came to a stop, turning to him. "This is far enough," I told him. No way was I going into the forest alone with this guy. "What do you want, Shane?" I asked, trying to keep my voice neutral and the annoyance out of it.

He looked at me for a moment, as if sizing me up before he spoke. "I feel like we got off on the wrong foot the other day," he started.

I snorted, rolling my eyes as I crossed my arms over my chest. "I have no idea what you're talking about," I denied, keeping my voice light.

"It probably started when I threatened to shoot you before you came out of that truck," he remarked, completely ignoring my interruption. That pissed me off. "And I probably made things worse when I called you a bitch," he continued.

"If Daryl hadn't stopped me, I wouldn't have until I either gouged your eyes out of their sockets or you let go of Merle," I told him, unable to keep the malice out of my voice. "Don't flatter yourself. I don't care what you called me. You probably could've called me worse and it still would've been true," I said, doing my best to keep my voice detached and uncaring.

He looked surprised at my words. He cleared his throat uncomfortably, looking at me as though I'd hurt his feelings. "I just don't understand why you hate me so much," he said, sounding flabbergasted. "I ain't done nothing to you. All I did to piss you off was stop some redneck junkie from beating my best friend to a pulp. What is it? Is it 'cause I'm a cop?"

"What do you care for?" I snapped, rolling my eyes. "So what if I don't like you? Do you think that everyone's gonna like you all the time? Must've been the cool kid on the block, back in the day," I sneered mockingly. "We're never gonna be friends or whatever you're hoping to accomplish by this conversation. There's no such thing as a second first impression," I continued seriously. "Honestly, I don't get why you're even trying," I told him.

He simply looked at me, his eyes going up and down my body. I wrinkled my nose, disgust filling me. This awkward silence was spanning too long and was making me particularly uncomfortable.

"I see Carl's been following you around a lot," he finally said, changing the subject. "Want me to talk to his parents for you?" he offered.

While I would have liked nothing more than for him to do just that, I wasn't going to take any favors from this guy. "No, he's fine. Just a harmless crush," I said with a shrug. "Was that all? Amy and I were in the middle of a conversation," I asked him, wanting this discussion to be over.

He sighed, a defeated and annoyed expression coming over his features. The hard look I'd seen in his eyes a few times before had returned in full force, and I could tell that his jaw was clenched from the vein sticking out at his temple. Pretty boy probably wasn't used to getting rejected, but I didn't care. He had the whole of the female population of camp to fawn over him, he certainly wasn't gonna die because I wasn't interested.

"Yeah, okay, we're done," I said after he hadn't said anything after a few moments. The way he was looking at me was creepy. I turned to walk away from him when I felt a hand on my forearm, stopping me.

"Wait, Avery–" Shane said beseechingly. I didn't pay attention to him, anger filling me like a wave. This was the second time he'd grabbed at me without permission, and my body certainly wasn't public property. I gripped at his hand that was on my arm, going for his pinky finger and pushing it back as far as it would go until he yelped and let go.

"Don't touch me, pig!" I growled after he let go, ripping my arm away from him.

He looked immediately contrite, "I'm sorry, I just didn't want–" he started, but I interrupted him. I wasn't interested in listening to another word come out of his mouth.

"Who the fuck do you think you are? Did you not get the message? Whatever you're selling, I'm _not_ interested," I snarled before turning around and running back to camp. I didn't look back. If I never saw his pretty face again, it would be too soon.

I reached camp but I didn't stop running. "Avery?" I heard Amy call, her tone obviously concerned. I didn't stop to address her, continuing on my way. "Avery, what's wrong? Where are you going?"

I reached my truck, throwing open the door and hopping inside. I pulled down the sun visor to grab the keys when I heard a knocking on my window. I looked over to see it was Amy. The window was rolled down a crack, enough for me to hear her when she asked, "What the hell?! What happened?"

"That guy Shane is a real piece of fucking work," I snapped. "I need to go for a drive. I'll be back in a little while," I told her.

"It's almost dark, Avery! You can't just go off by yourself," Amy protested.

I sighed loudly. I wasn't angry at Amy, I knew that. I was just generally pissed off and my interaction with Shane had just tipped me over the edge. "I can and I will," I told her stubbornly. "Get off the truck, Amy," I warned her.

"No!" she protested loudly. My eyes flashed to the group, noting that most of them were looking at us. I saw Mr. Horvath approaching us and knew I had to get out of there quick, before he got over here and started tag teaming with Amy. "I'm not going to let you leave! You're upset. You're alone. You could die," she told me.

I literally growled in annoyance. "The fuck you care for? Who the fuck are you? I've known you for, what, like a week?" I snapped harshly, glaring at her with the full force of my bitch face. "Who are you to tell me what I can or can't do? In case you've forgotten, I did just fine on my own. How many corpses have _you_ killed, Miss Priss?" I asked mockingly. I paused for a half second, observing her wide-eyed, hurt face before continuing, "That's right, not a damn _one_. So how about you step the fuck off and mind your own fucking business, alright?" I finished, my eyes flashing over to the group again. Mr. Horvath was almost to the truck now. I looked back to see that Amy had hopped the distance to the ground, looking up at me with anger and hurt written all over her features.

I immediately felt bad. Amy had done nothing to me and I felt bad for laying into her so harshly. It didn't matter though. She'd gotten off my truck and that was what my intent had been in the first place.

I immediately jammed my key into the ignition, listening to the engine roar to life. More people were heading my way now. I saw Shane and Rick heading this direction and Amy did as well. Only going to make me feel worse, she quickly ran over to them, getting in Shane's face and yelling. I couldn't hear her words but I watched as she motioned back to me as she screamed at him. Probably trying to figure out what he'd done to set me off.

Feeling panicked and like a shitty friend, I quickly shifted into reverse and gunned the gas. I whipped the truck around as quickly as I could, the tires spitting up gravel and dirt, before I shifted into drive and took off. I looked back in my rear view mirror, but the debris I had kicked up in my hasty retreat prevented me from seeing what was going on at camp. Probably for the best.

I sighed as I drove down the road. What the fuck was I doing? I had gone for the walk with Shane with the express intent on not making things worse, and now look at what happened. I'd been a total fucking bitch to him and then caused a whole bunch of drama running away from the situation. I groaned, leaning forward and smacking my head against the steering wheel in frustration.

I drove for a while, heading southeast towards the city. As I did, my frustration began to fade, and eventually I pulled the truck to a stop. I was in the middle of the highway, but that obviously didn't matter anymore. I threw open the door to the cab, climbing out. Instead of jumping to the ground though, I hung onto the side, positioning my body as I climbed onto the top of the hood. The metal was warm on my exposed legs, almost too warm, but I didn't care. I sighed, leaning back against my windshield to look at the sky.

The sun was setting below the horizon, a little red dot in an otherwise dark blue sky. I watched it in its journey, until the last ray of light disappeared. Almost immediately, darkness descended in the sky. The moon was waning, only a little sliver of it left to shed it's pale light upon the earth.

The sky was littered with stars, sparkling brightly from billions of light years away. I used to love looking at the stars before the end of the world happened. Since all this occurred though, I hadn't taken the time to enjoy them. It was silly, really. The stars were one of the only constants left in the world. No matter what happened on this little, insignificant blue planet, Orion would always light up the sky with his belt and sword. The Big and Little Dippers weren't gonna go anywhere. The Northern Star would always be there to light our way.

Unexpectedly, I felt wetness land on my cheek. I quickly wiped at it, realizing that I had started to cry. I rolled my eyes at myself.

What was wrong with me? I'd spent all this time looking for people, had almost blew my brains out when I thought I had missed my chance, and now that I had found some I wanted nothing more than to run away.

I guess it was because I felt like such an outsider. Mr. Horvath was great, don't get me wrong, but he wasn't really anything to me. He was a teacher I had years ago. He was a really nice guy, but I'd seen the looks he sometimes gave me. I had a feeling that he questioned me just as much as everyone else did, he just hid it better.

If I could have, I'd probably would have spent the most time with Merle. He wasn't the greatest of conversationalists, but at least he knew my secret and I didn't have to lie to him. However, that wasn't really an option. Since the craziness that occurred when we arrived at camp, he'd taken to spending most of his time in his tent, alone. I'd heard several people comment how out of character that was for him, and I had wondered what was wrong but didn't know how to ask. Something had obviously changed in him between the time they had left him on that rooftop and when I brought him back.

With my thoughts on his older brother, it didn't take long for my mind to make the obvious jump from Merle to Daryl. I found myself frowning. I seriously didn't understand why I found myself thinking of him so much. He was attractive, obviously, but he wasn't the stereotypical handsome. He didn't have Shane's chiseled features or dreamy aura. No, in comparison to Shane, I suppose he could be considered rather plain. I closed my eyes as I remembered Daryl's face.

He had light brown hair, cut short. His cheekbones were appealing, sitting high on his face. His nose wasn't abnormally large but it was slightly crooked, as if it had been broken in the past and hadn't healed properly. He had light facial hair, the same color as the hair on his head, spreading over his cheeks and chin. It framed his thin lips, but it wasn't unkempt. It was odd, because normally I wasn't a fan of facial hair, but it suited him. He didn't look me in the eye most times, but the few times he had I'd noticed his bright blue gaze.

He didn't say much and I rarely saw him interacting with other members of the group. Maybe that was why I liked him. He had a hard look about him, like he wasn't the easiest person to get close to. Just like me. Not to mention, he was obviously the most useful person at camp. He woke up before dawn nearly everyday, coming back just before dark with a sack full of his kills. I'd eaten his squirrel stew almost every night since I got here.

I laid there on the hood of my truck, staring at the stars until I became aware of a sound getting closer to me. It was a rumbling, roaring sound, like an engine. I sat up straight, turning around to look over the cab. From the distance, I could see a single ray of a headlight coming my way.

I stood immediately, jumping up to the top of the cab before hopping into the bed of the truck. Who the fuck was heading this way? I lowered myself down until only my head was peaking out over the paneling, grabbing for the bag full of guns I had there. I pulled one out, quickly checking to see if the magazine was full. It was. I clicked off the safety and looked back towards whatever was approaching me.

The light was drawing closer, and the sound of its approach was clearer. It sounded like the roar of a motorcycle, if I wasn't mistaken. I couldn't see it clearly, the beam of light engulfing my vision. I squinted against it, trying to make out who was driving it and failing. Eventually it was about twenty feet away from my truck and it came to a stop, the engine cutting and the light turning off.

The darkness of the night seemed even darker now that the light was gone, and I blinked rapidly several times to try and regain my night vision. I stood, loading the chamber of my gun and pointing it at the general direction of whoever approached. There was no point in hiding; whoever was there obviously knew someone was in the truck, or they wouldn't have stopped.

"Who the fuck goes there?" I called out.

"Ya gonna shoot me, Birdie?" I heard a familiar voice call back. "Seems kinda counterproductive, seeing how hard ya worked to save my life and all."

The tension left my body in an instant and I dropped my arm that held my gun. "Jesus Christ, Merle," I snapped. "You almost gave me a heart attack. What are you doing here?" I asked.

My vision was returning now. I could see his form in the near darkness, his bald head shining slightly from what moonlight there was. He stood from his bike, kicking the stand out and letting the frame rest against it before making his way to me. I climbed over the paneling at the back of the bed before hopping the the ground.

"Heard ya took off," he told me as he approached. "The old fucker and the lil' blonde chit are throwing a fit back at camp."

I sighed, leaning against the back fender of the truck. "Yeah, so?" I asked. "Doesn't explain why your ugly ass is out here," I said, crossing my arms over my chest.

He laughed, coming up beside me and resting against the truck as well. I scooted away from him. "Awh, don't be like that, Birdie," he chastised. I could see his face now and saw that he was smirking. "What's got yer feathers all ruffled?" he asked.

"Why the fuck do you care?" I snapped, his nonchalant attitude pissing me right the fuck off again. "I haven't even seen you since we got here," I grumbled, looking to the ground. To be honest, Merle's absence around camp had really bothered me.

When we had gotten to camp that first day and I watched Shane manhandle Merle, I had been so _angry_. Rick and the rest of the group that had gone to Atlanta had left Merle on that roof to die. It didn't matter what Merle had done before that-no man deserved to die that way. When I watched Merle go after Rick, I had felt like he was just in his retribution. To be honest, a couple of good clocks to the face hardly seemed like it compared to what they had done to him. So when I saw Shane come up behind him and lock him in a choke hold, my vision had gone red. Not only was a choke hold a totally illegal grab, but it was just fucking wrong. Merle had been dehydrated and exhausted and unable to really fight back. And so I had jumped into the fray, doing everything I could to try to pry Shane off of him until Daryl stepped in and pulled me away.

If I were being honest with myself, I would also admit that the fact that I associated Merle strongly with Roy had contributed a lot to my reaction. The sight of his familiar features being roughed up had hit a nerve inside me.

"Ya tryin' to say you missed me?" Merle quipped. I looked over at him and glared. "I'm flattered, really," he added.

"Do you get through doors alright?" I asked.

That one pierced through his cocky demeanor and he looked at me oddly. "Huh?"

"You know, with that big, ugly head of yours," I sneered. "Seems to me like you'd barely fit."

He laughed, his grin returning. He pulled something out of one of his pockets, bringing it to his mouth. I heard the sound of a lighter igniting and watched as a red cherry formed at the end of what he had brought to his lips. A fucking cigarette. I rolled my eyes. Addictions had no place in an apocalypse.

We stood in silence for several moments, and I found myself getting annoyed. "What do you want, Merle?" I asked.

He looked over at me, taking a long drag from his smoke before answering. "Thought ya took off for good," he finally replied. "Couldn't just let ya go out on your own, could I?"

"Why not?" I asked, surprised. "You know I'd be just fine," I said. I shrugged before continuing, "Been thinking about it, though. Leaving. It might have been a mistake for me to come back with you," I told him.

"Why ya think that, Birdie?" he asked. "You just got here. Everyone seems pretty sweet on ya, even after you went all ape shit on them cops."

"Yeah, everyone seems real fucking sweet on me, alright," I agreed bitterly. "Too sweet," I added.

"Ya don't say," he said, and I looked over sharply at him. The way he said it was condescending, as if he knew something I didn't. I waited a moment, considering lashing out at him for being an asshole before deciding that he was the last person I wanted to fight with at the moment.

I sighed, "I just don't get it. Everyone's so nice, it's creepy," I explained. "But at the same time they all watch me like I'm some kind of criminal. Like they're just waiting for me to do something. It drives me fucking nuts," I complained.

"Living in close quarters will do that to ya," he said, taking the last drag of his cigarette before flicking it away. "Plus everyone knows somethin's up with our story. The facts don't add up, Birdie," he said, and I could swear that I heard a little bit of pity in his voice.

"I know that," I said, annoyed. I threw my head back in frustration, looking up at the night sky. "But what am I supposed to do about it?"

"Well, the truth is always an option," he suggested.

My head snapped back to him, "You promised–"

He put his hands up, "I ain't gonna say shit," he interrupted. "I'm just saying, ya could always come clean. Probably stop ya from feeling so on edge," he suggested.

"No," I said, shaking my head vehemently. "No way. That's not an option."

"Why not? What's the worst that could happen?"

"I don't know. Do you?" I threw back at him. "Let's just forget that they'd probably not even believe me," I continued. "How about once they do? What then?" I asked. "Here they are, fearing for their lives every second of every day, knowing that any second a group of corpses could stroll along and decide they'd make a good snack and kill them," I described. "And then here's me. The girl that could stand in the middle of a feeding frenzy and not have a corpse bat an eyelash my way," I continued, trying to make him understand. "How do you think they would feel? Jealousy is an ugly thing. I don't want that kind of attention," I said vehemently.

Merle considered this for a moment, saying nothing. When he did speak, it wasn't the eye-opening piece of advise that I had hoped for. "So whatcha wanna do, Birdie? You gonna spread your little wings and fly away or are ya gonna make a little nest? S'up to you," he grinned as he spoke.

"Oh, my god," I exclaimed, fighting the urge to freak out on him. "If you make one more fucking bird reference, I'm going to scratch your eyes out," I threatened.

"Alright, alright," he conceded with a grin. His face turned abruptly serious as he continued, "C'mon, Avery. You ain't going no where tonight. Come back to camp and sleep on it," he said, trying to appeal to my rational side. I pursed my lips and crossed my arms, unconvinced. After the scene I made during my departure, I was seriously debating on if I was going back at all. I had everything I owned in my truck, after all. I could just take off down the road and never look back. As if he heard my internal monologue, he continued. "Daryl bagged a deer earlier. Was skinnin' and cuttin' it up when I left," he told me. "It's probably gonna be all gone if we don't get back soon."

I felt my interest spike at the mention of his brother. _Stupid, stupid, stupid_, I thought to myself. I needed to get a grip. Even knowing this, I found myself nodding. "Alright, alright," I conceded with a sigh. "Let's head back," I said, pushing myself off the truck.

He looked at me, eyebrows raising, "Well that sure made you change your tune quick, didn't it, Birdie?" he teased. "You excited for the deer or my baby brother?" he asked, a shit eating grin lighting up his features.

I felt my stomach drop at his words. Was I that fucking obvious? Even if I was, how the hell would he know? Like I'd said, he had been a fucking stranger since we arrived at camp. I chose to deflect rather than answer, "I told you, not another fucking bird reference," I snapped. "So help me. Why'd I have to find the most annoying sonofabitch out there to save?" I asked, looking up at the sky as if I would find my answers there. None seemed to be coming and so I made my way around the truck to the driver's side, opening the door. As I did, the sound of Merle's bike flared to life and he quickly took off the way he came from.

My stomach was in knots as I drove, following closely behind Merle's bike. The idea of going back to camp after the hissy fit I threw today was enough to make me want to hurl.

We pulled into camp, and I parked my truck near where Merle parked his bike. It was close to where Daryl's truck was, and I was surprised that I hadn't realized that it was Merle's. A motorcycle was a smart thing to have in an apocalypse. It lacked protection from the elements and corpses but it made up for it with its gas mileage.

Realizing that I couldn't sit in my truck forever, I reluctantly opened the door and hopped to the ground. I looked over to the camp to see who was all about.

My eyes fell on the group near 's RV. I saw Mr Horvath on the roof of it, resting on his lawn chair with his rifle across his lap. He was looking at me in what I thought was disappointment and I quickly looked away.

Amy's older sister, Andrea, was sitting at one of the closer fire pits. She wasn't looking at me, choosing instead to stare into the embers with a blank look on her face, but I could see by the stiffness of her lips that she wasn't happy with something.

I didn't see Amy anywhere. My eyes scanned over the rest of camp, trying to locate her. I found Shane, sitting at one of the more distant fire pits and to my extreme displeasure he was looking right at me. His face was an unreadable but it made me feel distinctly uncomfortable.

"What's the matter, Birdie?" Merle asked, coming up beside me. "Ya just got here and ya look like ya wanna turn right back 'round," he teased.

I looked to Merle and exhaled in relief. "Uhh, nothing," I said quickly, scanning back to Shane. "I was just looking for Amy but I guess she went to bed," Unless I was imagining things, Shane did not look too happy to see me talking to Merle. I unconsciously slid closer to him, trying to hide behind the big redneck's frame discretely.

"No, I'm right here," came a familiar voice from behind me. I spun on my heel to see Amy standing right behind me, arms crossed along her chest. She had a dark look on her face and one hip was thrust out farther than the other. She looked at me expectantly and I felt panicked again.

I made eye contact with Merle, as if he could somehow help me. Yeah right. He grinned at me in a way that said '_You're on your own_' before nodding at Amy and walking away. I looked after him helplessly for a moment before bringing my eyes back to Amy.

I winced. She was pissed. Had I taken my only friend and turned her into my enemy already?

"Hey..." I said awkwardly. I crossed my arms behind myself, reaching my hand up to pull on a several strands of my hair that fell down my back. I was nervous. I knew that the way I had gone off on her earlier had been totally uncalled for and she deserved an apology.

Only, I sucked at apologies. Like really bad. To apologize to someone was to admit you were in the wrong and that was something I didn't do. And I hadn't been wrong. Everything I had said to her had been one hundred percent truth. Sure, my presentation might have fucking sucked but facts were facts.

She really didn't know me. She had no right to tell me what I could or couldn't do. I was more capable than her by far and could definitely take care of myself.

But she was also the nicest person I'd met since the world went to shit. She was one of those rare people that seemed to genuinely care. She also had a weird way of making it seem like the whole apocalypse thing wasn't happening, a sense of normalcy that I had lacked even before the end of the world.

"Hi," she said, her voice hard. I sighed.

"Look," I managed out, frowning. "I'm sorry, " I told her. It felt wrong coming out of my mouth and I resisted the urge to grimace. "I shouldn't have said that stuff to you earlier. It was...uncalled for."

"Is that the best you got?" Amy asked harshly and I winced.

"What do you want me to say?" I asked quietly, trying not to sound annoyed. Probably wouldn't give me any points towards my apology. "I'm really shitty at these things," I told her.

Amy continued to stare at me harshly for a long moment before her face slowly morphed into a gentler mask. She sighed before speaking, "It's okay, I guess. At least you're alright," she said. She looked over her shoulder at the camp for a moment before looking back to me. "Let's go in your truck. We need to have a private conversation, " she told me, grabbing my arm and hauling me towards my vehicle.

Bemused, I followed behind her, allowing her to lead me until we reached my truck. I opened the drivers side door and hopped inside. Amy was having problems climbing up so I reached over the center consul and offered her a hand. She took it and I helped pull her inside.

Once she closed the door, she looked over at me for a moment. "Okay, spill," she demanded.

I blinked, unsure as to what she expected me to say. "Uhhh..." I stammered, "Spill what?" I asked.

"Oh, come on, Avery," Amy said, exasperatedly. "You know what. You've been here for four days and you've been like a cat with its hackles raised the whole time," she continued, raising her hands and counting on them, as if going through a list. "You show up fully loaded with food, water, guns and ammo," she listed off, raising another finger, "You somehow manage to save Merle with no back up as well as the guns," I fidgeted in my seat uncomfortably. "You say you just wanted to find other people but you've been a little brat to everyone but the Dixon brothers since you got here. Spill. What's your MO?"

I blanked. For a second, I simply looked at the other blonde girl. A part of me wanted to confide in her, tell her the truth, but a larger, logical part of me knew I couldn't. Amy's intentions were good, I knew, but I seriously doubted her capabilities when it came to keeping a secret.

"I don't have a 'MO'," I told her, rolling my eyes. She obviously watched too many cop shows before the end of the world. "What's so hard to believe? Why are people having such a hard time wrapping their heads around me?" I asked, frustrated. "I got the food and guns from scavenging. I'm self sufficient. I can take care of myself," I told her. "I wanted to find people because I was going fucking crazy. I didn't think there was anyone left. I needed to find you all for my own sanity," I explained.

"Then why are you acting like this? Screaming at Shane, freaking out on me, running off. And Merle Dixion being the one to bring you back? Merle Dixon? Really?" she asked incredulously.

"Hey," I said defensively. "Merle's a good guy. If it had been anyone other than him that showed up, I would've kept driving," I told her, feeling the need to stick up for him.

Amy rolled her eyes, "Yeah, he just radiates the 'good guy' aura," she said sarcastically.

"And you think Shane does?" I threw back at her. "You're blind as fuck if you think that's true."

Amy rolled her eyes again, "You're deflecting, Avery," was all she said in reply.

I sighed, looking away from her and staring forward. I knew I had to tell her something. I had a feeling that right now, Amy was acting as some kind of secret spokesman for the group. A mole for information. The thought pissed me off and comforted me simultaneously. Pissed me off because she was supposed to be my friend but also comforted me because whatever she would tell them would most likely sound a lot better coming from her than me.

"Look, Amy," I started, sighing heavily. A lie always sounded better with a little truth mixed in, I supposed. "I don't know what you're expecting me to say. Why am I such a 'little brat' to everyone?" I asked, using air parentheses. "I don't know. I don't have a good reason," I told her. "I'm not used to being around so many people. Not used to eyes watching me all the time. Even before all this, I didn't work well with a lot of people. I can count on one hand the amount of people I trusted and still have fingers left to spare," I described. "My mom was a junkie, always bringing new guys or new friends around. You know what I learned from her dealings?" I asked her.

"What?" she asked, looking engrossed in my explanation. It was definitely the most I had spoken in one sitting since I got here.

"There's more shitty people in the world than there are good people," I told her. "The second you stop questioning people is the second they stab you in the back. People don't just _do_ things put of the kindness of their hearts. At least, most of them don't. There's _always_ a price to pay," I told her. She frowned at my words and I felt a stirring of pity for her. She looked upset at what I had said, as if it were a novel idea to her. "The sooner you learn that, the better you'll be, Amy," I advised, "You might've been okay in only seeing the good in people before but the world's changed now."

Amy was silent for a minute, absorbing my words. She looked as though she pitied me as much as I pitied her. "I guess you're right," she said finally. "I mean, you've obviously had more exposure to the stuff that's going on out there," she conceded, "but I've been _here_ longer than you, Avery. The people here? They're _good_ people. You don't have to watch your back all the time here. It's okay to let your guard down."

I frowned. She didn't get it. How could she? When my silence stretched out for a couple of minutes, Amy spoke again. "Look, just give it a chance. Talk to people. Interact. Who knows? You might even have fun, make some friends," she said, wiggling her eyebrows.

I bit the inside of my cheek, before allowing a small smile to slip onto my lips. "Alright," I finally agreed. "Fine. I'll put on my happy face and try to play nice."

"Yay! Great. You'll see, the people here are better than you think," she told me with a smile. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.

"Just keep Shane away from me. Dude gives me the creeps," I said.

"It's a deal," she agreed.

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><p><strong>AN: Meh. This chapter was a difficult one to write. Not a lot of action, a lot of angst. Not my favorite to write. I felt it important though, to show this side of Avery. For all she might seem to have it together, she's still a teenager. Think back to when you were seventeen. How would you deal with the shit she's dealing with? I felt it would be disingenuous and unbelievable if Avery got along with everyone right away.**

**Anyway! That being said, the angst is done for a while! Next chapter will be a lot lighter, and have more plot stuff. I guess you could say this chapter was a filler. A pain in my ass to write filler. Lol.**

**Please let me know what you think! Reviews are love. (:**

**See you next week!**


	8. Not Nice

**Author's Note:**

**Hello everybody! I'm so sorry that it's taken me so long to post this chapter. Ugh. It was one thing after another. First I had to go out of town for my girlfriend's dad's birthday, then I got back and my mom went into surgery and had to stay in the hospital, then a pipe busted and flooded my apartment...ugh. Life is a fickle bitch. Lol.**

**Again, I want to thank everyone who read chapter 7 and put it on your alert/favorites. An extra-special thank you to my beautiful, lovely reviewers: _sillygabby_, '_H_.', _masseffectulz_, _MissDefender93_, _Mooka333_, _BlackNight86_, and _gabby871_. You guys are the ONLY reason I pushed through with this chapter. Seriously. Lol.**

**I hope you enjoy the chapter. It was a little difficult to write, mostly because I'm looking forward to the next one so much. Hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think in a review. (:**

**Standard Disclaimer: I do not own _The Walking Dead_. I bow to the copyright of AMC and Robert Kirkman. The only thing I own are my OC characters and their likeness.  
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**Special Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed in this work of fiction do not reflect those of the author. This story is rated M and is intended for mature audiences only.**

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Camp was quiet. The people here had finally turned in, the flames from their respective fires now only faintly glowing embers. It was nice, the silence. It was a living silence, the type of silence that only occured in areas where noise filled the air during the day. It wasn't ominous or foreboding but rather peaceful and calm. I basked in it.

I shifted in my sleeping bag, trying to get comfortable. It wasn't working. I sighed loudly, twisting around to punch my pillow into a more comfortable position before settling back down.

I chose to sleep in the bed of my truck, despite the protests of Mr. Horvath and Amy. I didn't have a tent and I certainly didn't want to sleep in the RV, so I had chosen my only other option. It wasn't so bad. I had lots of blankets and my sleeping bag, so I wasn't laying on a hard surface. The Georgia nights were cooler than the days, but certainly not cold by any standard. The truck was high up and the panneling gave me an illusion of privacy, which was nice. Not to mention, I had a great view.

I noted again how beautiful the night sky was. Without light pollution, there were more stars out than I ever noticed before. I found myself wishing I knew more constellations.

My mind flashed over the events of the night. After I had arrived back and had my conversation with Amy, we had joined the rest of the group. I had followed Amy closely to the firepit nearest to the RV, sitting next to her. Mr. Horvath and Andrea were there, as well as an older, Mexican guy with his wife and two kids.

After a slightly drawn out, awkward pause, Mr. Horvath had broken the silence. "Are you okay, Avery?" he had asked me, "You worried us when you ran off."

"I'm fine, Mr. Horvath," I had told him. "I just needed to clear my head a little bit," I explained.

"I see," he had replied stiffly, and I felt a flash of annoyance. I could almost smell his distinct disappointment towards me in the air. I found myself biting my tounge against the nasty retort I had in reply to his silent criticism. "Well, next time, I would suggest at least telling someone where you plan on going," he suggested.

I had rolled my eyes, "Merle found me just fine," I said, working hard to keep my attitude out of my voice. "It wasn't that hard. There's like, two roads and then you're at the highway."

Amy had chosen that moment to interrupt us, most likely sensing that I had been hanging onto my temper by threads. It had been a taxing day for me and I certainly had not needed a lecture at that point.

Amy and Mr. Horvath had a pleasant conversation with the Mexican man, during which I discovered his name was Morales. He seemed like a decent guy. His wife and kids had looked at him with love and respect, so he couldn't be that bad. Even if he had been part of the group that left Merle behind.

During the conversation, I had actually managed to speak a couple of times. Each time I did, Amy smiled at me encouragingly. It was both annoying and also kind of sweet. I knew she wanted me to interact and everything but I wasn't a dog, for Christ's sake. I didn't need encouragement or a treat everytime I did a trick right. Still, I guess it was nice that she cared.

Through the remainder of the night, I became aware of an extremely negative vibe coming from Andrea. I couldn't tell for sure, mostly due to my minimal involvement with the conversation, but I got the distinct impression that Andrea was not one of my fans. Whenever I did speak, she either abruptly changed the conversation or continued on as though she hadn't heard me. I had caught Amy casting glares at her older sister throughout the night, so I knew it wasn't just in my head.

I found myself sighing again, my focus snapping back to the present. It seemed that I only had Amy, Mr. Horvath and possibly Daryl in my corner, excluding Merle. That one was a given. I was obviously going to have an uphill battle in the whole 'making friends' department.

I was brooding, trying to come up with a plan of action to gain the group's trust when I heard a sound that was out of the ordinary. It was like a bird call, but it was close to my truck. Too close. I threw most of my blankets off and scrambled out of my sleeping bag, hesitantly crawling my way to the side panneling and peaking over the top.

My eyes, already adjusted to the night, fell upon Daryl's frame. Surprise filtered through me. He was looking up at my truck from the ground, and my eyes connected with his. I felt a fluttering in my stomach as I looked at him.

"Hey," I said, my voice coming out as a whisper. Why was he here? I hadn't really seen him since my first night, when I had coerced him into smoking with me. I wanted to groan at the memory. God, I had been such a dweeb that whole interaction. "What's up?" I asked, confusion lacing my voice.

He looked uncomfortable. I had the suspicion that he had thought I would already be asleep and wasn't really prepared to say whatever he had come over to. He cleared his throat before speaking, "Merle told me you had a rough day," he finally said, his voice coming out as a husky whisper. "I'm 'bout to smoke the last of my shit. Thought I'd see if you wanted to join me," he spoke quickly, as if trying to get the words out before he could change his mind.

To say I was surprised would be an understatement. Daryl didn't seem like the kind of guy to seek out other people's company and yet here he was, propositioning me in the middle of the night. My stomach did a little flip at the thought. _Don't be stupid_, I berated myself, _He's just trying to be nice. Merle probably made him_, I thought, my stomach abruptly settling. Yeah, that made sense.

Still, I wasn't about to turn down a good buzz. "Yeah, okay," I agreed, nodding. I shook myself free of the rest of my blankets before standing. I threw one leg over the panneling followed by the other, slowly lowering myself toward the ground. My feet landed on the gravel silently before I spun around to face Daryl. I shivered slightly from the chill of the night.

He nodded in the direction of his truck, which was only twenty or so feet away. I followed him silently to it, walking around to the passenger's side and hopping in. Daryl got in at about the same time, closing his door quietly behind him. I watched as he went to reach for the glove box, not realizing that my leg was blocking his way. His fingertips just barely ghosted the exposed skin above my knee before he pulled back sharply, as if he had been burned.

Goosebumps blossomed on my flesh and I bit my lip to keep from gasping. It sounded cliche to say that electricity flowed from where he touched me, but it definitely sent a pleasant tingle through my body.

There was a brief moment of awkward silence before I decided that that wouldn't be allowed. "Is it in here?" I asked, pointing to the glovebox. "I'll get it," I offered before he had a chance to respond. I reached forward and grabbed at the lever, pulling it and dropping the box. I grabbed his bag and his piece before closing it.

I looked at the contents of his bag, noting that all that remained was one intact bud. It was decently sized, about three bowls or so once broken up, with pretty little orange hairs growing out of it. "So this is the last of it, huh?" I asked as I inspected it.

"Sure is," Daryl replied. "It's a damn shame," he added.

That it was. I handed him the bud, knowing that some people were particular with how they broke up their weed. He took it from me, and if I wasn't imagining things, he made extra care not to brush my fingertips with his own. I looked at him closely.

"You sure you wanna smoke this with me?" I asked, raising an eyebrow at him. "Not your brother? Or, you know, by yourself?"

He had begun breaking up the weed in his hand but paused to look over at me. "Yeah, I'm sure," was all he said before returning back to the task at hand.

I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling. A giddy, warm feeling spread from my stomach to my chest and I turned my head to look out the window. I didn't trust myself to look at him and not have a goofy smile on my face.

"Good job bagging that deer," I spoke, remembering the food I ate earlier, "It was delicious."

He grunted in reply, handing the loaded pipe to me without a word. I took it from him with careful fingers before bringing it to my lips and taking a hit. The smoke pooled in my mouth before I opened it, letting the smoke drift free for a moment. I inhaled sharply through my nose, my lungs expanding almost painfully and burning slightly at the new invasion. I handed him the pipe, trying to hold in the smoke until he took it from me. I felt him grab the pipe just in time before raising my arm and proceeding to hack my lungs out into my elbow.

_God, this must be super attractive_, I found myself thinking as I coughed. Once I managed to stop, I felt the pressure leave my lungs and my head buzzed pleasantly. I sighed contently, wiping my mouth of the stray bits of saliva that had come out during my coughing fit.

Daryl handed me the pipe again and I took it. I looked at the bowl for a moment before I raised my eyes up to his face. I saw that he was looking back at me and my stomach did a little flip before he quickly looked away. My heart was suddenly racing in my chest. The way he had been looking at me hadn't been the way you casually look at someone, waiting for them to take their hit and hand you back the piece. He had been looking at me like _I_ was the drug he wanted to take a hit of.

Only – no, no surely I was imagining things. The hit that I had had gone directly to my brain and I was projecting my stupid little crush onto him. Even so, the truck suddenly felt stiflingly hot. I cleared my throat and shifted in my seat uncomfortably, distinctly aware that my lower region was suddenly tingling the same way my skin had earlier when Daryl accidentally touched me. I needed to get a fucking grip.

I took my next hit, handing him the pipe without looking at him. I stared straightforward, out the windshield. Thankfully when I exhaled, it came out smooth and without the urge to cough. "So, uhh.." I started, wanting to say anything that would distract me from my current uncomfortable situation. "Is Merle okay? I mean, he seems fine," I said quickly, saying the first thing that popped into my head, "but I've been hearing around camp that he's been acting weird," I finished, cringing slightly. _God, I sound like such an idiot_, I berated myself.

"He's fine," he said gruffly before taking a hit from the pipe. My stomach sank at the sound of his voice. It seemed as though he was annoyed. I watched as he took in his hit, expecting him to hand it to me. He exhaled, the smoke hitting the windshield and pooling on the glass. He didn't hand me the pipe.

"You know what?" he said suddenly, snapping his head in my direction so quickly that I heard several bones crack in his neck. "He's not fine. Ever since you brought him back he's a different fucking person," he told me, his voice almost a growl. "What the fuck did you do to him?" he demanded angrily.

My mouth fell open, shock filling me. What the fuck? What was he asking? Was he insinuating that I had done something to Merle? What could I have possibly done to Merle? The beefy redneck that was easily twice my size? "What are you talking about?" I asked defensively. "I didn't _do_ anything to him."

"You must've done somethin,'" Daryl threw back at me and I felt the pleasant tingle that ran through my body abruptly surge before puffing out. "He's been all fucked up ever since you brought him back," he told me.

"What do you mean 'fucked up'?" I demanded, my eyebrows furrowing together in confusion and anger.

"Don't pull that stupid act!" he exclaimed angrily. He slammed his hands down hard on the steering wheel, startling me and making me jump. Any traces of good feelings were gone in an instant. "Fucking laying around all day, leaving everyone alone. Not running his fucking mouth," he listed off. My eyes flashed to the pipe, now laying uselessly in his lap. So much for a buzz to help me sleep. "Going off after you after he heard you left. What the fuck was that about, anyway?" he demanded, his eyes meeting mine in the darkness. They were full of anger, confusion and fire. "Merle Dixion doesn't run after anyone. _Anyone_," he almost snarled. I could only gap at him, wide eyed and confused. "What makes you so special? The fuck did you really _do_ for him?"

A cold feeling trickled down my shoulders and back and a feeling of dread settled in my stomach. I looked at him solemnly for a moment before speaking, "Are you accusing me of something?" I asked quietly, trying to keep my voice calm.

"I dunno," he responded sarcastically. "Should I be?" he asked.

"Fuck you, Daryl Dixion," I snapped, abruptly seeing red. I grabbed at the handle, opening the door a crack before I continued speaking. "I didn't _do_ anything for your brother other than save him from that roof and get him out of that fucking graveyard of a city," I told him stepping out of the truck. He started saying something but I wasn't in the mood to hear it. I slammed the door to his truck so hard that the sound echoed throughout the camp and the glass of the window shook violently.

I stormed off, more frustrated than I had been in a long time. What the fuck had just happened? The whole interaction gave me whiplash. How did he go from seeking me out to blaming me for his brother's stange behavior? How did he go from being understanding that there was things I couldn't explain to him to demanding answers?

What an asshole. What a stupid, frustrating, loner, freak asshole. Fuck him and his fucking weed. I had more than enough people questioning my motives and if he had wanted to be considered as one of them, he did a damn good job. To think I had actually entertained the idea of _liking_ him. Ugh.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

I had told Amy I'd play nice. Told her I'd give the people here a chance and not be so uptight around them.

Let me say that it was not as easy as she made it out to be. Talking with people, doing chores around camp, smiling for no damn reason. I was an introvert by nature and all the socialization was really draining.

I made some acquaintances though, I'll give Amy that. I'd gotten to know Jacqui, an older black lady. She used to work for the city in the Zoning Office before the end of the world, and had been in Atlanta when the outbreak started. She told me all about how the refugee camp had been overrun and how she had managed to escape.

Then there was T-Dog, who was just about the nicest guy I'd ever met. When he saw me talking to Jacqui one day, he immediately approached me. At first I had been weary of him; he was the dumbass that dropped the key to Merle's cuffs, afterall. But I learned that he was a decent enough guy. He hadn't meant to drop the key. It had been an accident. Plus, Merle had used him as a human punching bag not even a half hour earlier. I guess I couldn't judge him too harshly.

There was the little Asian kid, who I learned was called Glenn. He was referred to as the 'go-to-town' guy; sneaky, fast, able to get in and out easily without notice. He seemed like a nice enough guy but he was far too perceptive for my tastes. He'd been the one to question me the most thoroughly upon my arrival and he continued to watch me closely throughout my stay. He didn't seem to have any malicious intent towards me but I had a feeling he didn't trust me much. I tried to avoid him whenever I could.

Then there was Ed and Carol, and their daughter Sophia. My hackles immediately rose whenever I saw Ed, watching the way he treated his wife. He ordered her around like she was his own personal slave and he looked at his daughter with sick eyes. They didn't interact with the group often and I had a feeling that was because of Ed. He didn't want his wife or daughter to make connections with the group. I'd dealt with men like him before and I watched him closely.

A few days after my talk with Amy, I found myself washing clothes at the river with her, Andrea, Jacqui and Carol. We were sent back to the days before mechanical washers and dryers and were forced to used a washboard to clean and a line to dry. It wasn't the kind of thing I would ever do willingly, but Amy had coerced me into it.

"I'm beginning to question the divison of labor here," Jacqui spoke from her position behind me, where she was sorting the clothes. I looked over my shoulder to see her, and then followed her line of sight to what she was referencing.

A little further down the river, Shane was playing with Carl.

"They're coming, little man! Get 'em! Get that net in there and get 'em!" I heard Shane call loudly, splashing the water loudly with his arms. I looked around the quarry, listening to his voice echo. There better not have been any corpses in the area, or they'd all be heading this way now. "What have you got, bad boy? What do you got? What do you got?" Shane asked Carl.

Carl raised his net out of the water and I watched his little face morph from excited to dejected in a matter of seconds. "Dirt," he told Shane with a frown.

"Oh boy. All right, we've got to start over," Shane said with a smile that seemed sincere. I by no means thought Shane was a nice guy, but he did seem to genuinely care about Carl. "Come on, let's find this bucket."

"Can someone explain to me how the women wound up doing all the Hattie McDaniel work?" Jacqui asked, her voice irritated as she watched Shane and Carl's interaction.

Beside me, Amy rolled her eyes, "The world ended. Didn't you get the memo?" she asked.

I watched Carol look over her shoulder and followed her gaze. Ed was standing by the truck, leaning against the bumper as he smoked a cigarette. Watching us. Watching Carol. A bad taste settled in my mouth.

"It's just the way it is," Carol spoke as she turned back around. Her voice was barely a whisper but she scrubbed the clothes against the washboard furiously. She was silent for a moment before speaking again. "I sure do miss my Maytag, though," she said longingly.

"I miss my Benz," Andrea spoke. "With my satellite navigation."

Jacqui spoke up from behind me, "I miss my coffeemaker," she almost moaned. Apparently she _really_ missed that coffee maker. "With that dual-drip filter and built-in grinder, honey. Mmm," she described. I fought not to snort.

"I miss my computer," Amy remarked wistfully, "And texting," she added. She looked over to me expectantly. "What about you, Aves? What do you miss?" she asked.

I shrugged noncommittaly. I missed a lot of things. My mom. Roy. My bed. My school. My life. Nothing I felt like sharing, though.

My silence stretched on until Andrea took it upon herself to speak again. "I miss my vibrator," she said out of nowhere.

Laughter spread throughout our small group. Amy made a grossed out face and Jacqui let out a shocked laugh. I even managed to smirk a little.

"Me too," I heard Carol whisper to the group, which sent the group into hysterics. I tore my eyes away from Shane and Carl to look at Carol, who looked bashful but also happy. I imagine that she very rarely experienced any sort of female camaraderie.

I felt the small hairs on the back of my neck stand up and I froze. Just as I felt this, I heard a gruff, male voice from behind us speak.

"What's so funny over here?" I looked over my shoulder to see Ed, Carol's husband, looking down at us as he smoked a cigarette.

An unsettling feeling came over the small group of women. I immediately felt a wave of revulsion wash over me. I looked up at him with hard eyes. I knew this guy. I'd seen him before. He was a weak, little coward that preyed on women because he knew he could exert power over them. I watched as Carol seemingly shrunk inside herself, somehow managing to make herself appear even smaller than normal.

"Just swapping war stories, Ed," Andrea said as she looked up at him. I could tell that she felt similarly to me but she handled it better, with a grace of a mature woman that didn't have the knee-jerk reaction to lose her shit on people.

He didn't say anything in response to Andrea's statement, continuing to hover over us as we did our work. It was definitely cause for some tension. I caught Amy's eye and she shook her head minutely, an obvious sign for me to hold my tongue. I rolled my eyes as I scrubbed a shirt against the washboard with more force than strictly necessary.

"Is there a problem, Ed?" Andrea asked.

"Nothin' that concerns you," Ed growled. I looked over my shoulder just in time to see him point a finger at Carol, "And you," he began, "ought to focus on your work. This ain't no comedy club."

What a fucking asshole. Ugh, someone seriously needed to knock this guy down a peg or two. What, was he just gonna stand there over us, watching as we washed his clothes and making us uncomfortable? If he was gonna stand there, he might as well grab a bucket and a board and help out.

My gaze fell to where Shane and Carl were located, watching them play and attempt to catch frogs. I obviously didn't like Shane but he definitely ranked higher on my list than this bottom-feeder, and it was nice to watch two people have fun. I felt like it had been years since I had witnessed any joy.

I saw that Lori had approached them, saying something to Carl to make him run off towards camp, looking anything but pleased. The strange thing though was that Lori remained behind, talking to Shane. Or maybe 'talking' was the wrong word. It looked like they were arguing, if Lori's drawn eyebrows and scrunched up mouth was any indication. They weren't talking in tones loud enough for me to hear but whatever was being said, Shane didn't look to happy about it. Lori stormed off and Shane was left standing there, clenching his jaw.

Well, that was weird. What could they possibly have to argue over? I had learned that Rick and Shane were best friends before shit hit the fan. They had all thought that Rick was dead and Shane had been the one to get Lori and Carl to safety. The day before I had shown up with Merle had been the day Rick had shown up and had his touching reunion with his family. He was a man back from the dead, only without the cannibalistic tendencies.

But now it looked like there was some tension between the best friend and the best friend's wife. What reason did Lori have to be angry with Shane? Unless...

"Tell you what, Ed," Andrea's voice broke through my musings and I looked at her. She was standing up now, closing the small distance between her and Ed as she spoke, "You don't like how your laundry is done?" she asked sarcastically. "You are welcome to pitch in and do it yourself. Here," she said, tossing a shirt at his chest.

I wish I could say I was surprised when I watched Ed throw it right back at her, the shirt hitting Andrea right in the face with much more force than what she had thrown it at him with. But I wasn't.

"Oh!" Andrea exclaimed, obviously shocked.

"Ain't my job, missy," Ed spoke with venom, looking down at Andrea like a king on his thrown. I found myself standing, knowing that something was about to go down.

"Andrea, don't–" Carol pleaded quietly. Andrea ignored her.

"What _is_ your job, Ed?" she asked rhetorically, her mouth twisting into a grimace. "Sitting on your ass smoking cigarettes?" she asked.

"Well, it sure as hell ain't listening to some uppity smart-mouthed _bitch_," he growled at Andrea before looking to Carol, "Tell you what," he said, motioning to her, "Come on. Let's go," he demanded.

"I don't think she needs to go anywhere with you, Ed," Andrea spoke up, stepping in front of Carol protectively.

"And I say it's none of your business," Ed replied, his face growing more and more red each passing minute. Maybe if we delayed him long enough his head would explode. I'd pay to see that. "Come on now," he yelled towards Carol, "You heard me."

"Carol–" Andrea protested.

"Andrea, please," Carol begged, "It doesn't matter."

"Hey, don't think I won't knock you on your ass just 'cause you're some college-educated cooze, all right?" Ed threatened Andrea, his voice escalating even higher. He grabbed for Carol's arm, "Now you come on now or you gonna regret it later," he threatened.

"So she can show up with fresh bruises later, Ed?" I heard Jacqui speak up, her voice shaking. "Yeah, we've seen them."

Ed laughed and I abruptly saw red. I stepped forward, pushing on his chest with all of my might. To my surprise, he stumbled back a few steps.

"You think you're a man, threatening your wife?" I demanded harshly. "You're fucking pathetic. Congratulations, you've managed to beat your wife that's half your size into submission, " I snarled at him. "What a _real_ man you are."

Ed quickly recovered from my shove, stepping back to where he was, "Stay out of this," he snarled, pointing a meaty finger at me before turning his focus back to Carol. "Now come on! You know what? This ain't none of y'all's business. You don't want to keep prodding the bull here, okay? Now I'm done talking. Come on," Ed said, grabbing his wife's arm.

"No, no," Andrea said, quickly trying to step between them.

Chaos errupted, with all of the women trying to get between Ed and Carol. I was seriously considering going for the knees.

"Carol, you don't–" I heard Amy start.

"Carol, you don't have to–" Andrea spoke, following the same thought as her sister, only to be interrupted by Ed's bellowing voice.

"You don't tell me what!" he roared, "I tell you what!"

The slap that Ed's hand struck across Carol's face echoed loudly through the quary. Pandemonium ensued. Ed was hollering and grabbing at Carol and the women were trying to pull her away. Ed was a big guy and even though the rest of the women were trying to push him away, he didn't budge.

"I'll tell you what–" he yelled, going to raise his hand again to his wife. It was like a trigger inside me was pushed and I lost it.

"I'll tell _you_ what, you fucking meatbag!" I screamed, cocking my arm back and punching his square in the face. I had to jump a little bit because he was so much taller than me, but I felt my fist collide with his face with a satisfying _crunch_. It took me a second to realize that it was my hand that made the crunch, not his face, though. I gasped loudly as I felt pain blossom from my knuckles all the way up to my elbow.

I sure wasn't expecting the return punch, either. I felt Ed's fist connect with my face almost out of nowhere. The momentum from his punch had me falling to the ground in a heap, clutching my face to try to lessen the pain.

"Avery!" I heard Amy scream, rushing over to me.

"That's right!" I heard Ed yell, satisfaction in his voice. "That's fucking right! Any of you bitches have anything else to say? Anything?" he demanded. I looked up at him from where I was on the ground, ignoring the metallic taste in my mouth as I stared at him with loathing.

Shane appeared out of nowhere. Really, it was like one second he was across the stream and the next he was grabbing Ed by the collar and dragging him away from the scene. I forced myself to stand as I watched Shane get on top of Ed and start pummeling Ed's face with his fists. I spat, blood coming out of my mouth and landing on the rocks.

"Avery, are you okay?!" Amy asked, helping my support my weight. I shrugged her off, ignoring the pain in my face and focusing on the pain in my hand.

"I'm fine," I said sharply. "I think I broke my hand on his hard head, though," I said, cradling my injured hand with my good one. All the while, I never took my eyes off the fight between Shane and Ed. If you could even call it that. Ed wasn't fighting back, didn't even have a chance to, and Shane was laying into him like a man possessed. I could hear the dull _thud_ of flesh pounding into flesh over and over, watching as Ed's face turned bloody and raw.

Even though I was satisfied that Ed was getting what he deserved, I was slightly unnerved as I watched Shane. The look was back in his eyes again; the cold, detached look that froze my insides. As he continued beating Ed unmercifully, I found myself more sure than ever in my previous assessment of him. Shane wasn't a nice guy.

The other women, previously stunned by the whole interaction, seemed to jumpstart to life.

Andrea stepped forward, "Shane, stop!" she yelled, "Just stop!" The rest of the women repeated the sentiment, cries begging Shane to stop filling the area. I stayed silent, watching the events unfold.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, Shane stopped his assult with his fist, grabbing at the collar of Ed's shirt roughly, pulling him up. Ed's face was unrecognizable.

"You put your hands on your wife, your little girl or anybody else in this camp one more time," he managed to get out, his voice shaking with uncontrollable rage, "and I will not stop next time. Do you hear me?" he asked. Ed didn't reply, instead moaning in pain. "Do you hear me?!" Shane asked again, roaring.

"Yes," the beaten man somehow managed to force out of his battered face.

Shane grabbed the hunk of flesh that once resembled Ed's face, pulling it close to his own. "I'll beat you to death, Ed," he warned, before dropping his hand. Ed's head fell back to the rock. "You hear me?! I'll beat you to death!" Shane yelled, punching him one more time for good measure. Ed groaned and Shane stood, giving him a good kick in the stomach.

Shane stepped away from Ed's battered body, wiping his face with the back of his hand. Stray bits of Ed's blood came off onto his face, giving him a macabre look. Carol ran over to her beaten husband, crying and begging for forgiveness. After a moment, Shane lifted his eyes and met my own.

His stare caused a shiver down my spine and I had to fight not to lower my eyes from his. There was nothing good there, no shred of remorse for beating Ed so thoroughly. Only anger and satisfaction.

No, Shane wasn't a nice guy. Not at all.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

My hand swelled up to the size of a baseball. Mr. Horvath took a look at it and guessed that I had probably fractured it. The pain was astronomical and there was never a time that I was more thankful for my mother's hypochondriac-tendencies than when I started popping her pain meds like candy. Amy wrapped my hand in some of the gauze I had, trying to make it so I couldn't move my fingers.

"You're lucky you have all these supplies," she commented as she fixed me up. "You've got more than the entire camp combined," she remarked.

"Really?" I asked, though my voice came out distorted. The punch Ed had landed on me had busted my lip and gave me a nice, colorful bruise on my cheek. "How is that possible?"

"Well most of these people had to run out of their houses with nothing but the clothes on their backs," she explained. "We tried to do a run but..." she trailed off as she wet one of my rags with peroxide and dabbed at my face with it. I winced. "Well, you know how that went, obviously, " she finished.

I stayed silent, thinking about what she said. I had a decent amount of supplies for one person and the fact that I had more than all of the camp was obviously concerning. What if one of the kids were to fall and hurt themselves? Or cut themselves on accident and it got infected because of lack of supplies?

"What else?" I asked curiously.

"What else are we missing?" she asked, clarifying. I nodded. "Oh, you know," she went on to say. "Food and water, mostly. We get by with Dixon's hunting and Shane goes out every week to a well nearby but you can never have too much food and water," she explained. "As far as the nonessentials, I know that the women would appreciate some beauty products. There's a lot of fuzzy legs around here," she joked. "The kids are starving for entertainment, too. You know. The everyday stuff that people took for granted before."

I didn't reply, lost in my own musings. The everyday things, she says. I could relate to that. I missed a lot of every day things. The facewash I used to use before bed, the smell of my candle as I did homework, the softness of my skin after I put lotion on.

I was interrupted by the sound of someone's voice rapidly approaching me. "Birdie! What the fuck happened to your face?!" I looked up to see that Merle was emerging from the treeline, followed closely behind by his younger brother. I tried to narrow my eyes at Daryl but it hurt my cheek and I couldn't manage it. I trained my eyes solely on Merle.

"That Ed guy punched me in the face," I told him as he approached. "To be fair, I punched him first," I said, holding my injured hand up as proof.

Merle approached, grabbing at my chin with gentle fingers and shifting my face to get a better look. I winced as the new angle pulled at my skin painfully. "I'll fucking kill him," he growled, his blue eyes alight with rage.

"Don't bother," I told him, pulling my chin away from his grip. "Shane already beat him to a pulp. There's not much left for you," I told him.

"How did this happen?" he demanded angrily.

"I got in the way," I explained with a shrug. "He was going for his wife. I might have punched him in the face and accidentally broke my hand," I told him. The pain pills were kicking in and I was feeling pretty giggly. "And obviously he owed me one so he punched me back. Funny, right?" I said, snickering.

"Yeah, real funny," Merle growled. "Fucker must've hit ya like you were a man. That's some shiner," he said, his mouth a thin line. "You said he's already roughed up?"

"Sure is," I said with a nod. "No use going after him now. It'd be like kicking a dead horse. Useless," I laughed. Suddenly, my stomach started aching. I gripped at it with my good arm. "Ugh..I don't feel so good," I groaned.

"That'll be the oxycodone," Amy said knowingly. She looked at Merle, and I could tell she was trying very hard not to grimace at him. I had the feeling she wasn't a big fan of the Dixion brothers. "She took, like, four of them," she told him.

"I'm tired, I'm going to sleep," I said, standing up abruptly. I stumbled slightly as I took a few steps towards my truck, trying to find my footing.

"Where ya think you're going, Birdie?" I heard Merle ask, following behind me. "How you plannin' on hopping into that truck?" he asked.

His question made me falter. I looked down at my hand. It was true that I definitely used my hand to help pull myself up into the bed. Well, that could be problematic. I shrugged, "I can't feel it right now anyway," I said, continuing on my way.

"You can stay in my tent, Birdie," he offered. I looked over my shoulder at him in surprise.

"Yeah right! You probably have all your boxers and dirty socks laying around. Gross," I said, wrinkling my nose in disgust.

"Yeah, and its hardly appropriate for her to sleep in your tent, Dixion," Amy piped up, saying his last name like it was a dirty word. She came up behind me, wrapping her arm around my shoulders and directing me towards the RV. "You'll just stay with me and Andrea for a few nights. The dinner table pushes down into a bed," she explained. "You can sleep there."

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

A few days passed and my hand slowly reduced down to normal size. I was able to move my fingers again with manageable pain. There was a nasty bruise that spread from my middle knuckle all the way to my forearm, but I supposed it matched the rest of my bruises.

After my interaction with Ed, I seemed to reach a new level of popularity with the rest of the group. Even Andrea seemed to not mind me as much, the few days I spent in the RV she brought me food and checked on me several times.

Carol was the only one who avoided me like the plague. Perhaps she felt guilty that her husband's violence had been unleashed on me instead of her. I didn't hold it against her, though. I'm the one that prodded the bull, to use Ed's words. If anything, I was glad to have given Carol a break from being Ed's punching bag for once.

I stood from my bed in the RV, stretching my stiff limbs. It was just past sunrise and I had shit I had to do today. I looked to my right and saw that Amy was sleeping peacefully on the sofa, her arms crossed over her chest almost like she was praying. I looked to my left to where Andrea normally slept in a comfortable Lazy-Boy recliner only to jump in surprise. Her eyes were wide open, looking at me.

"Sorry," I whispered, "I didn't mean to wake you."

"It's alright. You didn't," she replied, keeping her voice a whisper as well, not wanting to wake her little sister. "What're you doing up so early?" she asked.

I looked over my shoulder to where Amy slept and then back to Andrea. I signaled to the door, "Wanna come help me with something?" I asked. She nodded and we silently made our way out into the fresh air of the morning. I headed to my truck, lowering the hatch on the bed.

It took a decent amount of effort to hop onto the back without putting too much pressure on my right hand. Eventually I managed, walking to the front of the bed. There was a large ice box that spread the width of the truck there and I opened it. Inside were a majority of my supplies; my guns, my medicinal supplies, some of my provisions. I pulled out Opal from the bag of guns, setting her aside as I pulled out the rest of them. I walked towards Andrea, handing her the bag from her position on the ground.

She took it, peaking inside and gasping at what she saw. "Why are you giving me your guns?" she asked, bewildered.

"I'm not," I told her seriously. "They're for the group. Will you put them in the RV for me in a minute? Hold on though, I've got more shit," I told her, going back to the ice chest.

She stayed silent as I handed her bag after bag until eventually I was done. I hopped to the ground, closing the hatch once more. I grabbed one of the bags with my good arm, helping her carry as much as I could to the side of the RV.

"Are you leaving?" she asked me seriously, after our second trip.

"For a little while," I told her. "I'm gonna go into town for a run," I explained, "Just incase something happens, I don't want all my supplies just sitting there for some Joe-smoe to take. I want you guys to have them."

"You're going to town for a run?" she repeated, stopping in her tracks and looking at me, dumbstruck. "By yourself?" she asked.

I nodded, shrugging, "Yeah," I told her nonchalantly. "I work better by myself. Less noise, less flesh for the corpses to catch a whiff of," I explained, continuing in my walking.

"You're doing a run by yourself?" I heard a voice call from behind us and I jumped. I looked over my shoulder to see that Glenn was standing off to the side, not too far away from the RV.

"Yeah," I replied, annoyance filling me. Stupid, little eavesdropper. "What's it to you?" I sneered.

"Rick and Shane are not gonna go for that," he told me. He closed the distance between us as he spoke, coming to a stop about four feet away. "They're against solo-missions," he explained.

I rolled my eyes, "Who says I'm asking their permission?" I countered. "They can't tell me what I can or can't do. I've got my own truck, my own gas and my own mind. I'm giving up my supplies as part of a contingency plan. They have no reason to worry about me leaving."

Glenn looked at me for a moment, seemingly studying my face, "It's not your stuff they'd be worried about, Avery," he told me. "It's _you_. You're injured. You're not even an adult yet. No _way_ would they be okay with you going alone."

The 'not-even-an-adult-yet' comment really got under my skin but I fought to keep my expression neutral. "You seem to be confusing me with someone who gives a flying fuck, Glenn," I said snarkily. "Like I said, I work better on my own. I'm not asking anyone's permission."

"Let me go with you," Glenn suggested, "I can watch your back and Rick and Shane trust me," he told me. "They won't have too much of a problem letting you go if I'm with."

I stopped in my tracks, spinning around to face him again. "No way," I said firmly. "You'll do nothing but slow me down. What part of_ I work better alone_ do you not understand?"

"Then I've got no choice but to tell Rick and Shane," he said sorrowfully.

I rolled my eyes, turning my back to him once again, "You do what you have to do, buddy," I called flippantly.

Sure shit, not even minutes after Andrea and I finished unloading my truck, I saw Rick and Shane heading my way, Glenn following closely behind them. _What a little snitch_, I thought scathingly. I glared at him when he caught my eyes, and he quickly ducked his head in shame. I watched as he stopped following behind Rick and Shane, heading towards one of the tents. I sighed, pushing myself off the side of my truck and heading to meet the two pigs.

"Mornin', Avery," Shane drawled as they approached.

I glared at him, "You," I said pointing one of my fingers from my good hand at him, "I don't want to hear one word out of your mouth, got it?" I said harshly. "I'm gonna deal with him and only him," I pointed to Rick. I watched as Shane's mouth morphed into a thin, displeased line. Glad that he was taking me seriously, I returned my gaze to Rick. "What do you want?" I asked, cutting to the chase.

"Glenn tells me you think you're going in town for a raid. Is that true?" he asked, following my lead and getting straight to the point.

"No, that's not true," I said, watching his eyebrows raise in surprise. "I don't _think_ I'm doing anything. I _am_ going into town for a run. This camp needs supplies," I told him.

"You think you can just–" Shane started and I glared at him again.

"–I said I didn't want to hear your voice, mouth-breather," I snapped, interrupting him.

That pesky little vein in Shane's temple made an appearance again and he opened his mouth as if to speak once more, only Rick put a hand up to stop him. Shane's eyes wided at the motion, looking sideways at Rick with shock and anger. Still, he closed his mouth.

"Avery," Rick spoke, his voice calm, "I understand that you want to help this camp. I understand that you're more than capable of taking care of yourself," he began.

"Then what's the deal?" I demanded.

"The _deal_ is that you're still a child," he informed me, and I felt my blood pressure rise. "You don't have any type of guardian to look out for you to help make this decision."

"Oh, so you think that gives you the right to step up and fill that role?" I asked, not believing my ears. "Listen here, you pig. I've never had a _daddy_ my whole life and you got me fucked up if you think I'm gonna start having one now," I seethed. "Who the fuck do you think you are to even suggest it?"

"I'm not trying to be your dad, Avery," he shot back, obviously getting annoyed at the way this discussion was going. "I'm just saying that you need someone to look after you. The way I see it, if anyone's gonna be your guardian, it's gonna be Dale," he informed me, and I felt my stomach drop. "How do you think he'd feel about your little plan? Should we go check?"

"I'm not gonna ask anyone's permission!" I exclaimed, finally losing my patience. "What part of that don't you understand? If you wanna stop me from leaving, you'll have to tie me up."

"Is that what it's gonna come to?" Rick asked, not skipping a beat. "Cuz don't think I wo–"

"Let her go, Rick," Shane interrupted him suddenly. My eyes went to him in surprise. "Nothing good's gonna come out of stopping her. Just let her go," he said.

Rick looked over at him in surprise and I actually found myself smiling at Shane, "Wow, thanks mouth-breather," I said, backing away from them. I didn't want to give Rick any time to gather his bearings again.

"Wait–" Rick called as I threw open the driver's side door and hopped inside.

"Just let her go, brother. It'll be alright," I heard Shane say placatingly just before I shut my door, tuning out the rest of their exchange.

I pulled my keys out of the sun visor, quickly sticking them into the ignition and firing the engine up. I was on my way without a look back.

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><p><strong>AN: Alright, guys and gals. Things are about to go DOWN. Next chapter is gonna be full of action, undead monsters, lies and deceit and so much more! I have about half of it written already and BOY is it a doozy.**

**Bribery time again! All those who leave a review will receive a sneak peak for the next chapter!**

**Yep, I'm shameless. Lol.**

**Please let me know what you think! I'll see you next week~~**


	9. Friends Forever

**Author's Note:**

**Hello again! Sorry for the slight delay in posting this chapter. It was a doozy to write.**

**As usual, thank you to all of those who are reading this story. I appreciate those who put this story on their alerts/favorites. An extra special, super pretty thank you with a bow on top to my fabulous reviewers: _Nymphaura_, '_H_.', _Mooka333_, _masseffectrulz_, _NOTagentsofnothing420_, _sillygabby_, _Amaya Albarn_, _MissDefender93_, _Jessiscrazy9108_, _Jack-Chan88_, _jazica_, _SenSen-chan_(hope you're feeling better!), _Filiafamilias_, _wickedclownsmile_, _BlackNight86_, _dogkisses81_, _hideher_, '_Megan'_, _wiccan-jessica_, '_Guest_', and _kaylaodinson_. You have no idea how much each and every review means to me!**

**This chapter got away from me, a little bit. What was originally supposed to be about 7k words ended up being almost 11k...yikes. I hope it doesn't put too many people off of the chapter. It's kind of slow in the beginning, I admit, but I personally think it picks up after the first line break!**

**Without further ado...**

****Please secure your seat belts and keep your hands inside the ride at all times.****

**Standard Disclaimer: I do not own _The Walking Dead_. I bow to the copyright of AMC and Robert Kirkman. The only thing I own are my OC characters and their likeness.  
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**Special Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed in this work of fiction do not reflect those of the author. This story is rated M and is intended for mature audiences only.**

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The sun was shining brightly, warming my skin as I made my way into Atlanta. It was a beautiful day and I had my window rolled down, appreciating the way the breeze filtered through my hair as I drove.

I hummed lightly as I made my way into the city. I was in an exceedingly good mood. I had put my foot down with the group and things had turned out my way. I'd had to put up with being called a kid more than I cared to deal with, but whatever. It had all worked out. Maybe once I showed up with a truck full of supplies they'd lay off a little. They'd be able to see that I could obviously take care of myself.

I drove into the city as far as I could until the roads congested too much to allow me to pass. I came to a stop and cut the engine immediately, not wanting the roar it made while idling to attract any corpses my way. I was barely within city limits but the corpses were everywhere. Several approached my truck and I quickly exited the cab before they could get too close. I ran to the sidewalk, watching as the corpses began to swarm around my truck. I stood and watched them until they eventually lost interest, dispersing back into the area. I wrinkled my nose in disgust at the bloody hand prints and goo they had gotten all over the exterior.

It unnerved me that there were so many corpses at the edge of the city. Last time I had been here, the corpses had mostly been located towards the downtown area, in the center of the city. Now it seemed like they were venturing outwards, towards the city limits. Maybe searching for food?

It wasn't good news for the people at camp. We were currently located only a few miles outside of Atlanta; too close for comfort. We had strings of aluminum cans hanging around the perimeter, sure, but what were a string of cans going to do? Alert the survivors that their end was upon them?

We needed to move camp, like, yesterday.

I started walking, amazed by the sheer number of corpses that I passed. It always amazed me. I had told Daryl the other day that this city was a graveyard and I couldn't have been more apt in my description. I started thinking of ways that I could break the news to the rest of the survivors. I knew it wouldn't be easy news to take. The people there had started to lay down roots; started getting comfortable. It wasn't the ideal situation, obviously, but that camp had become a home.

I made my way to the department store that I had found Merle on the roof of. The streets were exactly as they had been the last time I was here; a ghost city frozen in time. It was spooky. I walked past the tank I had seen last time, running my fingers along the rough surface as I walked. I paused for a moment, looking down at the large bloodstain on the sidewalk.

It felt like years since that fateful day that I had found Merle. I looked to the left of the bloodstain, to the spot that I had kneeled and almost ended my life. I smiled slightly, a wave of emotion filling me.

Roy had saved me that day. I didn't know how, but I knew that was the case. Maybe I had been hallucinating, projecting my emotion and grief outwards and manifesting a ghost. Maybe everything I needed to know had somehow been locked in my subconscious and my grief-addled mind had managed to produce Roy's likeness in some warped version of a survival instinct to present me the information.

Or maybe he had appeared to me from beyond the grave. Maybe he had defied all laws of nature and broken past my belief, or lack thereof, of an afterlife. Maybe he had loved me that much. Enough to do the impossible and save me at my lowest point.

He always had looked after me, after all.

Tears spilled over my waterline and I let them flow. I wouldn't wipe these tears for Roy away. I'd let them fall on to the concrete at my feet, homage to Roy's memory. I missed him so much. There wasn't a day that I didn't think of him and ache for his loss. Not a day that I didn't regret my actions of that night. Sometimes I would wake up and could swear that I smelled his aftershave in the open, morning air.

I mentally shook myself. I was wasting daylight. I looked away from the scene, back to the road. I started walking again, heading to the entrance of the department store. I stepped through the doors, my feet crunching on the bits of broken glass as I walked. I entered the store, looking around. There weren't near as many corpses mulling about the area as there had been last time, but still enough to keep any humans away.

Things went pretty quickly after that. I found some dufflebags and started going through the different items in the store. There wasn't any food in this store so I went for the non essentials. Batteries. Flashlights. Tools for Mr. Horvath, the ones that had been left on the roof the last time the group had visited Atlanta that he wouldn't stop bitching about. Fresh clothes that weren't covered in corpse goo. Beauty products that I knew the women would love: shampoos, conditioners, razors, lotions and skincare products. For the men I grabbed some much needed hygiene products. The body odor most of them emanated was anything but pleasant.

I found myself having something that resembled a good time as I walked through the store. I had never had a lot of money that I could use to go shopping so this was a whole new experience for me, grabbing anything I wanted. It was still unnerving to walk around a store full of corpses but I found it easy to ignore them; they didn't bother me, after all. As long as I didn't make too much noise they didn't even look in my general direction.

I found the toy isle and I admit I might have gone a little overboard. I never had many toys as a child so I had a field day. I tried to stick to things that were educational in value but I couldn't stop myself from grabbing a few dolls for the girls and a set full of Legos for Carl and Morales' son.

By the time I was done, I had two large dufflebags and a backpack full of stuff. I crossed the straps for the bags diagonally across my body and shrugged the backpack onto my shoulders. All in all, it was at least an extra seventy-five pounds for me to carry. I took a few steps and stumbled slightly, adjusting to it, before I found my rhythm. I had to carefully walk sideways through the doors onto the street, trying not to fall over.

I walked the mile or so to my truck and was perturbed to see that there were still a few corpses mulling around the side paneling of it, reaching upwards towards the bed. I carefully dropped the dufflebags onto the sidewalk before pulling my hatchet free from my belt. I shifted it in my grip until I found a good positioning before I started to deliver my deathblows to the back of the corpse's heads. Their bloody brain matter spurted all over the side of my truck and I winced, thinking about how meticulous Roy had been about keeping his beauty clean.

Oh well. I'm sure he'd understand.

Once the corpses littered the ground in a messy pile, I looked around. Why had they still been going for my truck? In all my experience, they normally lost interest and forgot about it once they realized there was no one to munch on inside.

I shrugged, both out of nonchalance and also to remove the backpack off my shoulders. I threw it into the bed, listening as it landed quietly inside. I walked back to the dufflebags I had deposited on the ground and picked them up, ignoring the sharp pain in my dominant hand. I could take pain pills later. For now, I needed to get this done.

I pulled the hatch down in the back before heaving the bags into the bed. I pushed them back as hard as I could once they were resting on the metal of the bed. Once they were secured, I closed the hatch once more before leaning against the back of my truck, trying to gather my bearings. Just the one trip was exhausting and my arm ached something fierce.

I knew I wasn't anywhere near done though. I shoved myself off the side of my truck, making my way back the way I came. The sun was higher in the sky now, and I guessed that it was approaching about 10 am. I knew I only had about eight hours to do the rest of my scavenging before the sun began to set. Hopefully I would be out of here long before then.

I made my way through town, looking out for anything that would indicate my next goal; food. I knew from experience that markets and grocery stores would have been the first things people would have raided so I avoided those entirely, focusing on the next best thing. Churches. I knew from my past that a lot of them had food pantries inside that they stocked up for the poor. Lord knows I'd been to enough of them in my time.

I found what I was looking for after about an hour of looking. I came across a small building, one that I would have never guessed was a church if not for a hanging sign indicating that it was so. The scorch marks that covered the city were absent from it's exterior, indicating that it wasn't one of the buildings that were hit. I forced my way inside, jamming my hunting knife into the side paneling and wedging it open after some serious maneuvering and blinding pain in my hand.

Inside was deserted. Everything was in almost pristine condition, obviously untouched since the outbreak began. I adverted my eyes from the image of a crucified Jesus hanging on the wall as I made my way through the place until I found what I had come for. It was a large closet, off towards the side of the building. I opened the doors and practically squealed in delight. Canned food, boxes of noodle dishes, powdered milk, purified water. Everything I could have possibly hoped for. Obviously not as much quantity as I hoped, but more than enough.

To make my day even better, I looked to the side and saw a loading cart. I could have cried. Now I'd be able to bring all of this in one or two trips instead of breaking my back in ten.

I loaded the boxes carefully, doing my utmost to fit as much as possible onto it before pulling my load out the door. With the pantry thoroughly depleted, I saw no reason to even shut the door behind me. Who was I to deny any corpses who wanted some religious healing?

The rest of my time in Atlanta went pretty quickly. I had thought about how the corpse's indifference to me would make it easy for me to gather supplies but to be honest I had expected more difficulty than I was faced with. Nothing in my life had ever been easy and painless, after all. I didn't know whether to be pleased with the development or disappointed. I kept feeling like I was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Before I knew it, the bed of my truck was filled with boxes and bags, so much so that it was difficult for me to shut the hatch without damaging anything inside. I made quick work of it before having to turn around and fight off more corpses. They had been mulling around my truck all day for some reason, sniffing the air and clawing at the paneling. It really irked me because each time I had come back with a load, I'd have to dispose of them before I was able to reach my truck. A decent sized pile of disposed corpses surrounded the perimeter of my truck, and I was covered in their muck as a result.

I couldn't figure out why. I knew that it had been around people for almost two weeks now–was it even possible for smells to rub off on the exterior of a truck? And even if it was, it was well covered in corpse goo by now. It didn't make any sense as to why they crowded around it so.

I mentally shrugged. It was odd, yes, but it didn't really matter. They still left me alone.

I felt like I had gotten a decent amount of supplies and as I looked over my shoulder at the sun, I guessed that I still had about three hours left before darkness would descend. I still had one more thing I wanted to get before I left this city–hopefully for the last time. The supplies I had gotten were more than enough to last us a good month or two, at least, and I hoped to be far away from this graveyard before then.

I started walking, keeping my eye out for the type of store I was looking for. It wasn't too long before I found one; a jewellery. It was surprisingly undisturbed. I suppose that when people were trying to flee the city, they were more concerned with avoiding the flesh eating monsters than robbing a jewelry store. There was a large bay window in the front as a display, where a beautiful array of different jewelry sat, encrusted with precious stones. I paused for a moment to observe it. These necklaces and earings and rings and bracelets must've costed a fortune. Much more than I had ever hoped to spend on a silly little piece of metal.

Anyway, it wasn't the flashy jewelry that I was here for, despite how beautiful it was. I tried the door experimentally only to find it locked. No surprises there.

I looked over my shoulder at the street. I was only about half a mile away from my truck and there was a decent amount of corpses in the area. I pulled my hatchet out of my belt once more, standing as far away from the door and averting my face before I swung my arm with the hatchet as hard as I could against the glass of the door. It shattered easily, the entire pane of glass crumbling away from the force of the blow. The sound of the glass hitting the pavement echoed loudly in the air and I watched as the corpses looked up curiously.

I hurried inside, standing off to the side of the door just as the corpses began to shuffle in. Soon they filled the expanse of the shop, mulling about in search of what caused the noise. Even though I was sure of my invisibility towards them, it was still unnerving the way their eyes glossed over me like I was just another member of the living dead.

After the stream of corpses ended, I began to search the shop for what I had come for. Amy's birthday was only a day away and I felt the need to get her something to show my appreciation towards her. She had been the first person to welcome me into the group with open arms and since then had shown to be a loyal friend. We'd become close in the short time I had been there, perhaps closer than I had ever been with another girl of my age.

My eyes fell upon what I was searching for; friendship pendants. It felt silly to even consider something like that at my age but I had my reasons. A not-so-small part of it was because I had never had a friendship pendant with anyone before and somewhere deep inside me, my inner twelve-year-old demanded to catch up on lost experiences.

It was a simple looking charm, two puzzle pieces that fit together perfectly. There were others available in the shape of a heart that split into two pieces, but my eyes fell on this one. Instead of reading 'best friends', as most of them did, it read 'friends forever'. It seemed much more fitting. Even if, and I cringed to even think of it, we were to be separated by distance or death, I would always consider Amy my friend.

Now that I had found my prize, my only obstacle left was how to get it out of the display case. I quickly found that it was locked with no keys in sight. After debating for a moment, I rolled my eyes, impatient. I brought my hatchet down on the glass, satisfied that the case shattered easily. It was a case full of the more inexpensive jewelry so I suspected the owners had not wanted to spring for the shatterproof glass.

I reached inside, grabbing the box that contained the pendants quickly before hurrying away from the area as corpses began to surround me. I shoved through a couple of them and they stumbled aside, growling lightly at my impact. I broke into a run until I exited the store, looking over my shoulder to make sure none were chasing me. To my relief, they weren't.

I slowed and pocketed the box into one of my pockets, continuing on my way to my truck. To my extreme annoyance, there were corpses surrounding it once more. What the hell?! I had to dispatch a few of the ones closest to the driver's side door, ignoring the splatter of blood and brain matter that came my way.

After the door was clear, I quickly hopped inside. I started the truck, engine roaring to life. I quickly shifted it to reverse, hearing the low _clunk_ of my truck backing over the corpse's bodies, before shifting into drive and plowing over the corpses that stood in front. I made my way out of the city just as the sun began to approach the horizon, driving fast in order to lose the pack of corpses that attempted to follow me. It had been a day well spent.

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I pulled up to camp, exhausted. The sun was beginning its last descent in the sky, casting a warm, red-orange glow as far as the eye could see. My whole body ached from all the heavy lifting. Not to mention my right arm killed. I hadn't expected it to hurt so badly, but then again I hadn't exactly subjected it to hard labor since the break. I was looking forward to popping a couple pain pills and passing the fuck out once everything was unloaded from my bed.

I pulled my truck to a stop. The people here had seen my arrival and were waiting for me. My eyes sought out Amy and Mr. Horvath, who I found at the front of the crowd with nervous looks on their faces. A little behind them was Merle and also surprisingly Daryl. Merle's face was relaxed but Daryl's face was unreadable. I watched as Merle gave him a light smack to the chest, moving his mouth in a sentence I couldn't hear. Daryl shrugged him off before turning and walking away. I felt my stomach restrict uncomfortably for some reason I wouldn't allow myself to consider.

I threw open my door just in time to greet Amy, who had run to the side of my truck. Before my feet could even touch the ground, she enveloped me in a bone-crushing hug.

"Oh my god, Avery," she exclaimed, squeezing me almost painfully. I awkwardly wrapped my arms around her shoulders, giving her a few pats on the back. She pulled back from me after a few seconds and I felt oxygen return to my lungs, but still kept her arms around my waist. "What were you thinking?!" Amy suddenly berated me, her eyebrows drawn together in anger. "Going to the city by yourself! You could have died!"

"I'm fine, Amy," I told her with a small smile, trying to pull away from her. Almost unwillingly, her arms dropped from my frame and returned to her sides. I looked down at her front and saw that the corpse goo I had gotten on my clothes had partially come off onto her own. "Look at you! You're a mess now, idiot," I berated her teasingly.

She rolled her eyes, "Honestly, Avery, that's the least of my concerns," she snarked, looking me up and down. "God, you're covered in Walker guts! What happened? Are you alright? Did you get bit? Scratched? How's your hand?" she asked all these questions in quick succession, her voice almost too fast for me to follow in my exhausted state.

"Amy! Amy! Amy!" I said over and over until she finally stopped talking. "I'm fine," I said in the calmest, zen voice I could manage. "Nothing bit me or scratched me," I told her, "I just had a run in with a couple of juicy ones. Their heads popped open like a geyser, I'm tellin' ya. Got all over me. Bastards," I said. It seemed to calm her down.

"Was your run successful?" I heard a woman ask and looked up to see that it was Lori speaking. Rick stood close to her side, looking between me and the truck expectantly.

"Oh, yeah," I told her. My eyes fell to Rick again, "I told you I work better on my own," I said, and a little smugness might have crept into my voice. "I found a nice little store with a blocked off service alley. Drove my truck right up in there and loaded up," I explained, lying through my teeth. "It was near the shopping district and it looked like it had been locked down before the looting started," I explained. "I cleaned up. Some food, water, medical supplies, beauty products. Some toys for the kids," I listed the items off nonchalantly until I became aware of the strange looks the people of camp were giving me. I paused before clearing my throat, "Uhh...well, you'll see. Can someone help me unload?" I asked before turning and heading towards the back of my truck.

I felt a hand grab my injured arm, yanking on it and spinning me back around. I gasped at the sudden pain, "Hey what the fu–" I started, until I saw who it was. Rick. And he didn't look too happy.

"Where is he?" he demanded, his voice hard and loud. It matched his eyes which looked at me with dislike and suspicion.

"What?" I asked, confused.

"I said 'Where is he?!'" Rick repeated again. "What did you do with him?" he demanded. His grip tightened on my hand and I gasped again at how painful it was.

"Hey! Let her go!" I heard Amy come to my defense. I looked over Rick's shoulder to see that she started to approach us, only to be stopped by Shane's arm sneaking around her waist and holding her back. "Hey!" she exclaimed, her voice reflecting the indignity of the situation, "Let go of me! What are you doing? She didn't do anything!"

I looked back to Rick and tried to pull my arm away. In turn, he tightened his grip even more. Blinding pain shot up my arm and I suddenly felt the ground hit my knees. I felt sick, that's how much it hurt.

I heard a click from above me and opened my eyes to see Merle standing there. His eyes were sharp and pissed as he held the end of a shotgun to Rick's temple. I watched as he loaded the chamber. "You let her go, Officer Friendly. Or I'ma put a bullet in your brain, so help me God," he growled. I watched Rick look at him for a moment before finally letting go of my hand. I cradled it to my chest, trying to settle my stomach.

I felt Merle's strong hand reach under my arm and pull me to my feet, "Now, Birdie, just tell him where his guy is," Merle told me. I looked at him in confusion for a moment before looking back to Rick.

"What guy?" I asked.

"Glenn," Rick said, though his voice was hard and unyielding. Like he thought I knew the answer already and he hated giving me the satisfaction of feeding me information. "Shane said he saw him hop in your truck just before you left. That's why he let you leave," he explained. "Only it doesn't look like he's there. Where is he?" he demanded.

I felt my eyebrows furrow together in confusion, "Glenn wasn't with me," I told Rick, honestly.

"Well the last time anyone saw him was this morning before you left," Rick growled. He looked at me like I was some kind of monster, with suspicion and barely disguised loathing. "Shane, you saw him hop in the bed of her truck, right?" he asked his friend, not even bothering to look back at him where he was restraining Amy.

"That's right," Shane replied. I didn't detect deceit in his voice.

"Look, that's impossible," I replied. "I haven't seen Glenn since I left this morning. He was here when I–" I stopped short, my eyes suddenly widening. My heart started beating wildly in my chest and adrenaline rushed through my body.

I pulled away from Merle with more strength than I thought I had, pulling down the hatch of my truck and hopping into the bed with ease. I suddenly couldn't even feel the pain in my hand. There were boxes and bags everywhere and I climbed over them, more than likely damaging their contents in my haste. I made my way to the front of the bed, where the ice box rested and opened the lid with shaking fingers.

Inside lay a surprised Glenn. He was short enough that he only had to hunch his body a little bit to fit inside. He even had my pillow positioned under his neck for comfort.

"Avery!" he exclaimed, his slanted eyes almost bulging out of his head in surprise. I bet he had planned to wait until we were unloading to make his escape.

"You little rat," I spoke. I was surprised to hear my voice come out disturbingly calm despite the rage I felt slowly building inside of me. Everything made sense now. The corpses that were hanging around my truck all day, the way they kept coming back despite the stench of their undead companions all over my truck. It had been because of him. "I'm going to fucking kill you," I growled, reaching inside of the ice box to grab at him.

Rage gave me strength. I grabbed his collar and heaved him out of the box, pushing him down on the boxes with force.

"Ow! Avery, calm down!" he exclaimed as his head hit the side paneling of my truck. He had his hands up, not trying to fight back at all.

"What did you see?!" I demanded of him, my face close to his own and doing my best to keep my voice a whisper when all I wanted to do was scream at him. "What did you see, you little sneak?"

"Everything," he admitted without a fight, following my lead and keeping his voice low. "I saw everything."

Panic filled me as he confirmed my worst fear. He had followed me and discovered my secret. What was going to happen now? He would surely spill the beans, and then what? How would the group react? I could only imagine two scenarios; jealously, anger and violence or jealousy, greed and manipulation.

My vision began to blurr as my mind flashed through the different scenarios at mach speed. "Don't you say _anything_," I snarled, my voice an odd mixture of pleading and demanding. "Don't say a fucking word, got it?"

Almost before I could get the words out of my mouth, I felt strong arms wrap around my waist and pull me off of Glenn. I looked over my shoulder to see that it was Merle and didn't fight against him. Rick was up as well, looking past me completely, eyes on Glenn. He awkwardly stepped over the boxes and bags as he approached the small Asian man, extending an arm to help him up. Glenn took it, rubbing the back of his head as he stood.

Merle half-led, half-carried me off the back of my truck. Exhaustion filled me like a wave and I suddenly had no fight left in me. I had gone out of my way to try and help these people and what had I gotten in return? I had been followed, accused and assaulted. I didn't know whether to cry or scream and run away. Maybe all three.

"Are you alright, Glenn?" I heard Rick ask once both of their feet had hit the ground.

"I'm fine," Glenn replied, looking sheepish.

"Is _Glenn_ alright?!" I heard a female voice almost scream. I looked over and saw it was Andrea. She approached me, pulling me gently away from Merle and wrapping an arm protectively around my shoulders. "Are you kidding me, Rick? Are you going to completely ignore the way you just manhandled a girl who not even ten hours ago you were calling a child?" she demanded angrily.

Her defending me was the drop of water that made my dam spill over. I was physically and mentally exhausted, the pain in my hand had returned in full force, my secret was exposed and I was just so _tired_. I felt my eyes overflow and I was suddenly sobbing, my cries wracking my chest forcefully. I felt Andrea pull me close to her chest and I allowed myself to be comforted. I normally wouldn't but I didn't have it in me to try and act tough right now.

I couldn't see his reaction to Andrea's words, but I heard the guilt in his voice as he shuddered, "Avery, I'm so sorry," he spoke as he approached me from behind, "It's just–When you pulled up and Glenn wasn't with you, I assumed the worst and–"

"–And _what_, you fucking pig?" I growled over my shoulder, "You thought I _killed_ him or something?" I demanded. "I'm not a _monster_, unlike some of you," I spoke scathingly.

He winced at my words and if I wasn't so angry I would have thought that his contrite expression looked genuine. As it was, I hated his stupid face. "Look, Avery, I owe Glenn my life," he explained. "I didn't even see him leave with you, it was Shane that told me. And then you pull up with all these supplies, more than even a group of five men and women managed to bring, with no Glenn. It just seemed...suspicious," he finished weakly.

"Really, Rick? _Suspicious_? That's the best you got?" Andrea snapped.

"Nothing I can say will make what I did okay," he admitted, clearing his throat uncomfortably. "All I can do is apologize. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have grabbed you like that and it won't happen again, " he told me. I looked away from him, pulling away from Andrea lightly and bringing my hand to my chest, cradling it. "How is your hand?" he asked, sounding concerned.

"It fucking hurts," I snapped, glaring at him. "I've been lifting boxes all day by myself while that little weasel hid in my truck like some punk and I come back to camp and your brute-ass twists it around like I'm some rag doll," I growled. "How do you think it is?"

Rick looked at the ground guiltily, words apparently lost to him.

"You didn't help her?" Andrea demanded angrily towards Glenn, "She has a broken hand and you let her lift all this by herself? What did you even go along for if you weren't going to do anything?"

My tears had dried up by now and my panic and fear returned with a vengeance, my eyes snapping to Glenn's form immediately. Glenn, for his part, looked extremely uncomfortable, unsure how to answer. He met my eye before he responded.

"I was going to but she really didn't need my help," he started, sounding stiff an uncomfortable. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. He was a worse liar than I was. "Her truck plowed over the Walkers like nothing. She pulled into a blocked off service alley and just started loading up. I figured she would be more angry than grateful if I showed myself, so I just stayed hidden," he explained weakly. "I only went along because I was worried about you, Avery," he said, looking me straight in the eye, "I didn't believe you when you said you could take care of yourself. I was wrong. I'm sorry." He sounded sincere.

"Can we just drop it?" I asked, aspirated. "Just unload my truck and go through the shit. I'm tired and I want to go to bed."

"The guys can unload it, honey," I heard Jacqui say as she approached Andrea and I. "Lets go inside and get you fixed up," she suggested. "We've got an ice pack in the freezer, let's get that on your hand. It looks pretty swollen," she said, fussing over me as she led me into the RV.

Inside, I allowed the older women to take care of me. They cleaned me up and got me some fresh clothes, which I changed into without complaint. Afterwards, they did indeed give me an ice pack to put on my hand, which was ridiculously swollen and gross looking again. After I was good to go, they went outside to help go through some of the supplies I had brought. Apparently my mentioning of precious beauty products had them excited and eager. Eventually it was just Amy and I left alone in the RV.

She sat across the table from me, observing me closely. "Are you okay?" she asked softly, sounding anxious. "I can't believe Rick grabbed you like that. I've never seen him like that before."

"I'm fine," I said, unsure if I was telling the truth or not. The whole situation with Glenn and Rick had really shook me and I felt all sorts of discombobulated. "I just...I don't know. I'm not the type to play the victim but I feel really...I don't know how to describe it. Like I went out of my way to help the group and I get treated like shit for it," I tried to explain.

Amy frowned, reaching across the table to grab my hand that didn't have an ice pack on it, squeezing it. "I'm sorry, Avery," she said sincerely. "There's no reason he should have acted like that."

"Maybe I should just leave," I said with a sigh. "I tried to be a part of the group but it just doesn't seem like it's working. They don't trust me, no matter what I do."

"No way!" Amy protested vehemently, her eyebrows knitting together. "You can't leave! Rick and Shane are just a bunch of douchebags. There's plenty of people here that are on your side!" she insisted. "Me and Andrea, for one. Jacqui. T-Dog. Morales. Glenn, even though it was crappy that he followed you like that. The Dix

on brothers," she listed off, "In fact, I'm sure that if you were to leave, Merle would go with you. And where Merle goes, Daryl goes," she said, almost as an afterthought. "But that doesn't mean you should leave!" she said quickly, backpedaling. "I'd be really sad if you left," she said, pouting slightly.

I found myself smiling slightly as she continued to talk. Finally, after she continued to blabber on incessantly as to why I shouldn't leave, I interrupted her, "I got you something," I told her, feeling slightly nervous after the words came out of my mouth.

Her eyes brightened and she smiled widely, "Really?" she asked excitedly. "For me? What is it?"

"Well, it's supposed to be for your birthday," I told her, "but I suck at waiting. So I'm giving it to you early." I pulled out the box from my jacket pocket, placing it on the table in front of her. She squealed in excitement, grabbing it for it.

I watched as she opened the box, fidgeting in my seat, suddenly nervous. "I know it's kinda childish," I said quickly, feeling the need to explain myself, "I was gonna get you something practical but then I thought–well, who wants practical for their birthday? So then I was thinking, well, you were the first friend I've made since–"

"Avery," Amy interrupted me, looking up from the box with a smile, "I love it! This was so thoughtful of you! I really didn't expect you to get me anything," she said earnestly. "Here, I'll take 'Friends' and you take 'Forever'," she told me as she secured hers around her neck. "Oh wait, you probably can't get the clasp, can you? She asked. She motioned for me to stand and helped me put it on, where it fell at the base of my throat, just above Roy's locket.

Amy hugged me tightly afterwords, and I hugged her back just as tight. A warm feeling of contentment filled my gut and I smiled. With a friend like Amy, how could I possibly think of leaving her behind?

.

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"So then, little Amy just runs out of her room, screaming bloody murder, convinced that a monster was going to eat her," Andrea laughed as she recollected on a memory from her and Amy's childhood. She was describing the layout of the house, how her room was an add on with shared a window that had never been removed from Amy's room. Andrea was describing the way she always used to whisper through the glass, scaring her little sister as she pretended to be the boogeyman. I was almost pissing myself from laughter. Amy sneered at me, sticking her tongue out in annoyance at my obvious amusement to her childhood trauma when I felt a tap on my shoulder.

I looked up and saw Glenn standing above me with a serious look on his face and my stomach dropped. Between the merry mood of camp and the warm campfire, I had almost managed to forget that Glenn had discovered my secret. Almost.

"Can we talk?" he asked nervously, lightly bouncing from one foot to the other.

"No, I don't think that's a good id–" Amy spoke up, her eyes flashing to me in concern.

"No, it's okay," I interrupted her, pulling myself to my feet. I brushed some of the dirt off my jeans before straightening up and looking back to Glenn. "Let's chat," I said pointedly, nodding my head in the direction of my truck.

I headed towards it and felt Glenn following closely behind me. Once we were out of earshot from the others, I stopped and turned around to face him. The moonlight helped accentuate the parts of his face that the firefight didn't manage to. "Well," I started with a sigh, crossing my arms over my chest, "Go on, then. Out with it already," I said, putting on a false bravado to cover up the nervous energy that threatened to make me toss my lunch.

"Okay..." Glenn started with a shakey voice. He looked as uncomfortable with the situation as I felt. "The Walkers," he stated, apparently having a problem with putting together his sentence structure. "Today I was planning on following you, but I couldn't. You just...just walked right through them. Like it was nothing," he managed to get out, looking astonished.

"Yes," I said simply. There was no point in denying what he had seen and to be honest, I didn't have it in me to try and lie to him.

"But _how_?" he asked emphatically. "How is that possible?"

"I don't know," I told him with a shrug. "I really don't, " I added after observing his doubtful face, "I found out about it when the outbreak first started. My mother had turned corpse and she didn't try to attack me," I explained. "Since then, I've been in multiple situations to test it out. The corpses don't ever notice me. Even in the middle of a feeding frenzy, it's like I'm invisible to them. The only time they even look in my general direction is when I make a lot of noise around them," I told him, watching as his face shifted from astonished to downright amazed. "Even then, they eventually just lose interest. Like I don't smell like food to them."

"But why haven't you told anyone?" Glenn asked, sounding flabbergasted. "This is the secret you've been hiding all along? This is amazing! If you would just tell people–"

"–_Shhhh_!" I hissed at him, as his voice had been gradually rising. I looked around us nervously, checking to see if anyone was eavesdropping. It looked like we were clear. "Keep your fucking voice down," I demanded of him.

"Okay, okay," he said in a whisper, putting his hands up as if to placate me. "But Avery, you really should just tell them. Rick and Shane have this idea in their heads that you're working with some other group or something, trying to gain our trust and then turn around and cut our throats when we're not expecting it, " he informed me.

My jaw dropped, "Are you kidding me?!" I exclaimed. Offended seemed like such a petty word to describe what I was feeling. "Why would they think that?!"

"Well, you know," he started, looking uncomfortable again. "I mean, you're not the best liar, Avery. Not that that's a bad thing!" he assured me quickly before continuing, "But the point is, everyone knows you're hiding something. The way you saved Merle with no backup, the way you seem so on guard with everyone, the way Merle looks at you like you're some kind of savior," he listed off one by one, "and then obviously today, when you came back with all those supplies. You know, it just seems...a little sketchy," he finished weakly.

"Yeah, because I would totally give you guys all of my guns and supplies if I was that sketch," I said sarcastically, trying to ignore the feeling of indignant rage that was threatening to unhinge inside of me. "Whatever. You know the truth. You know I'm not some double agent murderer," I said with a roll of my eyes, "Now you have to promise me to keep your mouth shut."

"What?" he asked, his jaw dropping, "You want to keep all this quiet? _Why_? Don't you realize what this would mean to the group?" he demanded. I went to answer but apparently he wasn't finished, "Avery, this could mean everything! Don't you understand? The Walkers don't go for you! You could be the key to everything! The cure. Our old lives back!"

"Don't be stupid, Glenn," I snapped, my voice a hiss, "You can't really believe that, can you? You're not truly that naive, are you?"

"What–?" he asked, confused. I cut him off.

"Is that really how you expect things to go down, Glenn? I tell them what I can do and they all dance around the fire, singing show tunes?" I spat, disgusted. "Not likely. I tell them and I become nothing more than a tool. A card that they can play in their hand," I described. "And if I ever want to leave? If I decide I'm _sick_ of being whispered about, or followed, or assaulted?" I asked rhetorically, watching as his excited face shifted to guilt and he winced, "You bet your ass that if they knew my secret, they wouldn't let me go. And then where would I be? I'm not going to be anyone's prisoner, Glenn."

"Avery, that wouldn't happen," Glenn argued, though I could hear doubt in his voice, "I know you've had a hard time since you've gotten here, but there are good people he–"

His sentence was cut off by an ear piercing scream that echoed loudly through the otherwise quiet air. I spun around in the direction of the noise, only to see one of my worst fears coming to life.

Amy, coming out of the RV, her arm extended to hold the door open. A corpse that resembled a young woman, tearing into the flesh of her forearm. Blood gushing from the wound like a fountain, no doubt because of the fear and adrenaline that must've been causing her heart to beat a mile a minute.

"_Amy_!" Her name tore from my throat in a high-pitched scream as panic filled me. I felt my legs moving before my mind even comprehended the command. Suddenly, corpses were everywhere, seemingly appearing from thin air and funneling out of the trees. I reached her in what seemed like hours but was probably only seconds, pulling Opal from my holster and loading the chamber in a flash. The bullet I fired opened a hole in the corpse's head, but not before another managed to tear into the flesh of Amy's throat. Another bullet fired.

"Amy! Amy!" I repeated over and over as I rushed to her side, catching her as she began to fall. My hand went to her throat in a vain attempt to apply pressure to the wound and stop the bleeding. Her blue eyes looked up at me, wide and pupils dilated, filled with fear and pain. She said nothing, only a small gurgle emanating from deep in her throat. "Shhh, shhh, it's going to be okay, you're gonna be alright," I told her as tears appeared in my eyes. I knew I was lying.

"Amy!" I heard a voice come from behind me. I was suddenly pushed away, my face landing in the dirt. I pushed myself up quickly, spinning around to see that Andrea had taken my spot and was sobbing over her sister's dying body.

I looked around as pandemonium filled camp. Corpses were everywhere, growling and snarling as they hunted their prey. I watched as they tore into the flesh of their victims, people that I had seen but didn't know the names of. Their screaming faces etched into my retinas and I was sure that I'd see them for the rest of my life, every time I closed my eyes.

"Get up!" I heard a gruff voice yell at me, and felt a hand suddenly grab under my arm, hauling me to my feet. I looked up to see Shane, his face hard and panicked. As soon as I had my feet under me, he shoved a rifle in my hands. "I saw you shoot. We need people to help. You know to aim for the head," he instructed. Normally his bossy, arrogant tone grated my nerves but this one time, it was just what I needed to kick me back into action.

I nodded, loading my chamber and beginning to fire. It was a semi-automatic weapon and the kickback was pretty manageable. I stood in one spot, firing in all directions as the corpses swarmed as far as I could see. As usual, they all ignored me in favor of louder, tastier smelling individuals.

"_Mama_! _Mommy_, help me!" I heard this voice over all others, possibly because it was a piercing cry of a small child. I searched for it's source until I eventually found it. It was Sophia, surrounded by a group of three corpses that were closing in on her. I raised my rifle, about to take the shot when I saw one of the corpses go down, an arrow landing cleanly in it's eye.

I looked in the direction it came from, my eyes landing on Daryl. He loaded another arrow quicker than I thought possible, taking down another before he ran and gouged the remaining one in the head with his hunting knife.

I started heading towards him as he approached the crying girl, kneeling down to say something to her that I couldn't hear. I was about twenty feet away when I noticed that a corpse was approaching him from behind. Daryl was a hunter and tracker and under normal circumstances, I'm sure he would've heard the thing's approach. As it was, gunshots rang through the air, echoing through the quarry like hellfire. My heartbeat matched the quick succession of bullets.

I watched as he stood straight, Sophia in his arms. The corpse was even closer to him now, and I no longer had a shot that I could take without possibly hitting either Daryl or Sophia. Or both.

One thought entered my mind, clearing out all other sensory information. _Not him_. _Not him_.

I closed the distance between us faster than I thought was possible. Like I defied all laws of physics and moved faster than the speed of light, one second twenty feet away and the next barely a foot, stabbing my hunting knife up into the monster's brain stem with a feral cry.

The corpse fell to the ground at my feet just as Daryl spun around. His eyes widened as he looked at our feet where the corpse lay and then flashed back to me. The realization that I had saved him flashed in his eyes, and for one tiny, split second I thought that he might want to kiss me, despite the child in his arms and the frightened screams and gunfire in the air, if the sudden heat I felt in his gaze was any indication. I took a step back, breaking the spell over us.

"Get her to the RV," I managed to get out, my throat as dry as a desert. "Carol's there," I told him.

I turned away from him and continued trying the clear out the corpses. They seemed to be fewer now, more of their bodies littering the ground than stumbling about and looking for their next meal.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, the last shot rang in the air followed by a deadly silence. The cold type of silence that leaked into one's very bones, freezing them so solidly that any small impact would cause them to shatter. I dropped my gun and it fell to the ground silently.

My ears rang loudly from the absence of sound and the air reeked of blood and gunpowder, so much that I could almost taste it on the back of my tongue. I looked around and saw bodies everywhere. Bodies of corpses, bodies of our people.

The sun began to rise and I fell to my knees. As I observed the bloodbath around me, I recalled a thought I had had earlier in the day. In Atlanta.

I had observed the corpses heading to the edge of the city. I had known that we had had to leave quickly but had forgotten to say anything. I had _forgotten_. Between the confrontation with Rick and Glenn discovering my secret, I had been too absorbed with my own issues to pass along the message that would've saved everyone. That we had needed to leave.

This was my fault. This blood was on my hands. All of it. I looked down at my hands for a moment and almost laughed at what I saw. Blood. Literally blood on my hands, dried and caking on my skin. Amy's blood.

The realization had me on my feet in an instant, running to the RV. Andrea was still there, leaning over her sister's still body. Now that there was no threat of corpses, people had dispersed away from the side of the RV. I fell to my knees beside Amy's lifeless body. Andrea didn't even look up at my presence.

I leaned over Amy's chest and sobbed, unable to comprehend her loss. Just a few hours ago, I was holding her in my arms and now she was gone.

Time passed, I don't know how long, but people eventually started approaching Andrea and I, invading our silent vigil. Andrea wouldn't say a word to them and I took it upon myself to yell and scream until they left us alone. They wanted to take Amy away, to _take care_ of her. I could understand why. Obviously Amy was going to rise again, going to become one of those things. But something about the look in Andrea's eyes told me she was waiting for that. Waiting to say her last words.

I heard footsteps approach, and looked up to see Rick heading towards us. He caught my eye and nodded in greeting before looking at Andrea.

"Andrea," he called softly, imploringly, as he came to stop at her side.

Faster than I expected her to be capable of, she had pulled a gun from her side and raised it to point at Rick. Her eyes were dead as she spoke the first words she had uttered all night, "I know how the safety works," she warned him, her voice almost as dead as the rest of her.

Rick's eyes widened, "Alright. Okay, okay," he conceded as he began to back up, "I'm so sorry."

Silence returned around us, until Andrea finally lifted her head and looked me in the eye, "Did you get her that necklace?" she asked me, seemingly out of the blue. I looked down at the shell that Amy had once inhabited and saw that the chain had somehow managed to stay intact, despite the chunk of flesh that the corpse had taken out of her neck.

I felt my eyes begin to water again as I nodded, fishing my half of the pendant out of my shirt. "Friends forever," I choked out weakly, "I got it for her birthday. I couldn't wait to give it to her, so I gave it early," I explained.

A small smile appeared on Andrea's face, tears filling her eyes as well. "I'm glad you didn't wait," she said, her voice shaking in her effort to keep herself together. "Her birthday was always like a week long event," she explained as she pushed a stray piece of Amy's hair behind her ear. "But somehow, I always missed it," she told me, a single tear spilling over her waterline and landing on Amy's cheek, "I was either away at college, or too old for kid's parties. She'd call, all excited. I always said I would make it home, and I really always meant to," she looked away from her little sister then to meet my eye. Her face was pleading, as if she was begging me to believe her. I did. "But I never made it past that phone call."

"She knew you loved her, Andrea," I told her, understanding her grief all too well. "That's all that matters."

"Thank you, " Andrea said quietly, the haunted, dead look returning to her eyes. "You meant a lot to her, Avery," she told me as she looked back to her sister once more. "Because of that, I want you to leave. She wouldn't want...she wouldn't want you to see what's going to happen next," she choked out.

I was suddenly crying again. Leaving Amy was the last thing I wanted to do, but I found myself nodding, "Okay," I agreed. I leaned forward, placing a kiss on Amy's icy forehead. "Bye, Amy. I'll catch you on the other side," I whispered, before standing onto my feet.

I walked away from them, not looking back. I walked a distance away from everyone before falling onto my ass, drawing my knees to my chest and rocking myself.

_My fault, my fault, my fault_.

It repeated in my head like a mantra, until a scream interrupted my wallowing.

"A Walker got him! A Walker bit Jim!" I heard Jacqui's voice echo through the quarry.

I looked over and saw that the men of the group quickly surrounded the man named Jim, who I had never really spoken to before, demanding to see the wound despite his protests that he was okay. I found myself standing, approaching the group.

I watched as Jim picked up a shovel from the ground, swinging it at anyone who tried to approach him. It almost worked too, until T-Dog snuck up behind him, wrapping his arms under Jim's and clasping his hands behind Jim's neck.

Daryl approached Jim, lifting his shirt to reveal a single bite. It wasn't too deep of a wound and it was obvious that Jim had managed to dispose of the corpse before it could tear a chunk out of him but it was definitely a bite mark. Daryl stepped back, letting his shirt fall back down to cover his chest.

"I'm okay, I'm okay," Jim repeated, over and over. I looked at him sadly. More blood on my hands.

Almost as if responding to my thoughts, I heard a gunshot from behind me, near the RV. The sound seemed to ring in my ears long after it had faded into silence.

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The group stood in a semi-circle, discussing the situation that Jim presented us with. I stood near the discussion but didn't participate in it. I couldn't help but look over the shoulders of the members of the group to where Jim sat, a distance away. Here we were, discussing what to do with him, as if he were already dead.

"I say we put a pick axe in his head and be done with it," Daryl spit out, obviously annoyed that the question was even up for debate.

"Is that what you'd want?" Shane asked, surprisingly empathetic towards Jim's predicament, "If it were you?"

"Hell yeah," Daryl shot back, a disgusted look on his face when he looked at Shane, "and I'd thank you while you did it."

There was silence for a moment, until Mr. Horvath spoke up. "I hate to say it…" he began, his voice hesitant and woeful, "I never thought I would… but maybe Daryl's right."

Daryl looked annoyed at the 'never thought I would' comment, but with Mr. Horvath taking his side, he managed to hold back the nasty retort that I was sure was on the tip of his tongue.

Rick looked shocked and horrified at Mr. Horvath's words. He stared open-mouthed at the older man for a moment before replying, "Jim's not a monster, Dale, or some rabid dog," he almost snapped at the old man.

"I'm not suggesting–" Dale began, only to be cut off by Rick, who was having none of it.

"He's _sick_," he said emphatically, casting his eyes around the group, "A sick man. We start down that road, where do we draw the line?" he asked.

"The line's pretty clear," Daryl spoke sarcastically, looking at Rick like he was the stupidest man alive. "Zero tolerance for walkers, or them to be."

Another pause. "What if we can get him help?" Rick asked. "I heard the CDC was working on a cure."

"I heard that, too," Shane agreed wryly, crossing his arms across his broad chest. "Then again, I heard a lot of things before the world went to hell."

"What if the CDC is still up and running?" Rick asked.

Shane sighed, "Man, that is a stretch right there," he said, sounding apologetic and doubtful at the same time.

"Why?" Rick demanded, looking around the group and addressing us, "If there's any government left, any structure at all, they'd protect the CDC at all costs, wouldn't they?" he asked. "I think it's our best shot. Shelter, protection..." he listed off, sounding almost hysterical.

Shane noticed this as well, "Okay, Rick, you want those things, all right? I do too, okay?" he phrased these statements as questions, trying to placate his friend. "Now, if they exist, they're at the army base," he continued. "Fort Benning."

"That's a hundred miles in the opposite direction," Lori interrupted, sounding distressed.

Shane nodded, "That is right. But it's away from the hot zone," Shane explained, "Now, listen to me," he continued when Rick looked like he was about to interrupt, "If that place is operational, it'll be heavily armed. We'd be safe there."

Rick shook his head, "No, no, you're wrong," he told his friend vehemently. "The military were on the front lines of this thing. They got overrun," he said, reiterating what we all already knew. "We've all seen that. The CDC is our best choice and Jim's only chance."

"Avery, you've got to tell them," I heard Glenn's voice call suddenly, startling me and causing me to jump.

The other's in the group turned their heads to look at me, obviously confused. I turned to glare at Glenn. What the hell was he doing?!

"Tell us what?" Rick asked, looking suspicious.

"Nothing," I said quickly, my hands suddenly clamy. "I don't know what he's talking about," I lied.

"Avery, c'mon," Glenn pleaded, drawing close to me. "You've got to tell them. You could be Jim's only chance."

As Glenn drew closer, Merle appeared at my side. He put a hand out to stop Glenn from reaching me, shoving him back, "She said she don't know what yer talkin' 'bout, China Man," he growled.

"You want him to die, Avery? Is that what you want?" Glenn asked angrily, seemingly not even noticing Merle's aggression towards him.

"What's going on here?!" Rick asked, his voice loud and impatient. "What are you talking about, Glenn?"

"He ain't talkin' about nothing, ya pig, so why don't ya mind yer own–"

"Merle, stop," I sighed, pulling on his arm. Glenn was right. The time for keeping secrets had come and gone. Plus, I was so tired of the charade. "Glenn's right," I told Merle. He looked at me in surprise.

"If ya say so, Birdie," Merle conceded, backing off.

I sighed again before facing the group. All eyes were on me. "I'm invisible to the corpses," I told them, cutting to the chase. No point in beating around the bush. "I don't smell like food to them. Glenn thinks that I could be the key to the cure," I announced.

I looked around at the shocked faces of the group. Silence greeted my confession.

.

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><p><strong>AN: Welp. That was pretty rough for me to write. I didn't want Amy to go, but I decided it was necessary for the story. Sorry, actually sorry.**

**Next chapter is the CDC. It's going to be one of the most important chapters in this entire story(SO MANY QUESTIONS WILL BE ANSWERED) so it might take me longer than one week to get it up and posted. **

**Please let me know what you think! I look forward to your feedback (:**


	10. One Way Ticket to Hell

**Author's Note:**

**Hi, everyone. Let me start off by saying, I'M SORRY. I LIED. I'm a dirty, rotten, liar, liar face. I made an announcement last chapter that this one was going to be the chapter where they reach the CDC, and it was originally going to be, but it got away from me! I started writing and the whole 'going to the CDC' thing just didn't work out. Welp. I'm sorry. I'm pretty sure by the end of next chapter, they'll have at least reached the CDC. Next chapter, guys. I'm almost sure of it...**

**Anyways, lol. As always, thank you to all those reading this story. I hope you continue to enjoy my work. An extra special thank you to those who took the time to let me know what they think: _sillygabby_, _Filiafamilias_, _DarkFireNyx_, _Mrs Sorbo_, _SenSen-Chan_, _gabby871_(I've got an extra special surprise for you this chapter!), '_Guest_', _DevilsDelusionalMistress_, '_Guest_', _masseffectrulz_, '_H._', _tie228_, _Mooka333_, and _Ain'tEasyBeingBreezy_. You all are so wonderful. This story would not get written if not for your support and feedback. For reals.**

**Shout out to my lovely, anonymous reviewer '_H._' for calling out at the end of Chapter 8 EXACTLY what Glenn did, before Chapter 9 was even posted. You were totally on point in your prediction! (: You da real MVP.**

**I don't want to spoil too much in this top note, but keep an eye out at the bottom for an important author's note! **

**Without further ado...**

**Standard Disclaimer: I do not own _The Walking Dead_. I bow to the copyright of AMC and Robert Kirkman. The only thing I own are my OC characters and their likeness.  
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**Special Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed in this work of fiction do not reflect those of the author. This story is rated M and is intended for mature audiences only.**

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><p>.<p>

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The silence that greeted my confession was all consuming. The look on the faces of the survivors was complete shock, staring at me like I had grown three heads. I didn't see malice in any of their expressions, but then again, they'd only just been told.

My heart was hammering in my chest, so loudly that I was sure everyone would be able to hear it over the silence. My hands were cold and clammy and I felt like the temperature had dropped a good fifteen degrees in about ten seconds. I shivered, moving closer to Merle's side in a subconscious attempt for warmth and security.

Finally, Rick broke the silence, but when he spoke, it wasn't directed towards me. He looked at Glenn, "Glenn, is this true?" he asked, his voice hoarse and faltering. His eyes scanned back to me for a moment before going back to Glenn.

"What do you mean, _is it true_?" Glenn asked, and I was surprised to hear that he sounded angry. "Dammit, she just told you!" he exclaimed. "Quit treating her like she's some criminal, dude! You're being a dumbass!" he demanded.

"It's fine, Glenn–" I started to say, only to be interrupted by Glenn.

"No, Avery, it's not fine," he snapped and I felt my eyebrows raise. He looked at me seriously before continuing, "You've done nothing wrong in this group and now that I found out your secret, I can see how crappy you've been treated. And it's anything but _fine_," he explained seriously.

I took his words at face value and felt some of my dislike for him fall away. A lot still remained though; after all, I'd told him not to say anything and not even four hours later he was putting me on the spot and forcing me to spew my guts out to the group. Still though, I suppose he wasn't the worst.

"I _saw_ it. I saw it with my own two eyes," he exclaimed to the rest of the group. "Andrea asked me why I didn't help her? It was because I _couldn't_," he told them. "I couldn't help her because she pulled up in the middle of a group of Walkers and _walked right through them_. Right past them, like it was nothing," he explained, and I felt a hint of my annoyance towards him came back. "She told me they don't even acknowledge her. Said she could be in the middle of a feeding frenzy and–"

"That's enough, Glenn," I snapped furiously. He had made his point, he didn't need to spill out all of my trade secrets. And I could see it now. The more he talked the more the group's faces shifted from shock to something else. Something mean and signifying their feelings of injustice towards the situation. Jealousy. Why me when it should have been them? Why me when they would've killed to have my ability? For them or for their sons and daughters?

"Glenn's over exaggerating," I spoke, though it was a lie. He wasn't over exaggerating one bit. Still, the looks I was getting were enough for me to send me backpedaling and inching closer towards Merle's side. To my extreme surprise, I felt his strong arm wrap around my shoulders, giving me a little squeeze. "They notice me if I make too much noise, or if I'm in a big group of them," I said, mixing a little lie with the truth, "the trick is to be faster and smarter than the corpses. Which isn't that hard, as you can imagine."

"So all this time, this is what you've been hiding?" Rick asked me, stepping closer. "When you showed up here with Merle and those guns? Yesterday, with all those supplies?"

"Yeah," I admitted. "This is it," I told him.

"Why? Why didn't you tell us?" Rick asked me, his voice softer than I had ever heard when it was directed towards me. "Christ, Avery, you got no idea the type of things that were going through my head...I never would've acted half the asshole I was if I had just known–"

"Yeah, 'cause you all were just _so_ welcoming," I snapped, interrupting me. "Just had me _dying_ to spill my innermost secrets," I continued before sighing. Being snappy probably wasn't the best way to go about this. I pushed away from Merle, closing the distance between Rick and I until there was only about a foot between us. "Besides, you didn't need to know. I wasn't hurting anyone," I said quietly, trying to make it so that no one could hear me. "Just look at your people, staring at me like they can't wait to hang me up and drain my blood," I whispered, watching as his eyes traversed over the members of his group. I stepped back, crossing my arms across my chest. "You can't blame me," I told him. His eyes met mine once more and I could see the understanding in them.

"I wanna see it," I heard a voice speak. I looked over Rick's shoulder and saw that it was Shane that spoke. His eyes were on fire, looking at me like I was something out of a dream. It was frighteningly similar to the not-so-nice look that I'd come to associate with him, but also different. There was something there that hadn't been there in the past. Hope.

And fuck if that wasn't the scariest look I'd ever seen on his ugly face.

"I'm sure you'll get a chance to do just that, mouth-breather," I sneered, wrinkling my nose in disgust. "After all, we've all got ourselves a one-way ticket into hell."

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

The group dispersed in a surprisingly quiet manner, though I felt all of their eyes on me as I made my way to the side of the RV. Andrea was still on the ground, her hand stroking Amy's cold cheek lovingly, staring into her dead eyes as if they were her last ties to the earth. I saw the bloody wound from Andrea's bullet, making her blonde hair look morbidly red.

I knelt down next to Andrea, reaching out for Amy's face and pulling her eyelids down with a brush of my hand. If it weren't for the green legions and gore all over her body, I might have been able to imagine she was sleeping. As it was, I knew she wasn't.

"Let's get her in the ground, Andrea," I suggested, though it was more of a command than anything. Andrea made no move or motion to respond and I fought the urge to roll my eyes. I went inside the RV and stripped the bed of the fitted sheet before returning to Amy's side. I draped it over her body and began securing it to her frame when Andrea finally spoke.

"What are you doing?!" she snapped at me, trying to pull at the sheet to get it off Amy's body. "Leave her alone!"

"Do you think she'd want this, Andrea?!" I snapped, slapping her hands away forcefully. "Do you think she'd want to be laying here, for all the world to see?" I asked harshly. "It's disgraceful. She deserves better than this. Let's get her _in the ground_," I said, forcing the last three words out through my teeth.

Andrea looked at me for a moment and then back to her sister. Then she nodded, "You're right," she agreed.

After I kicked her into gear, we managed to get Amy in the ground pretty quickly. It turns out that while I had been in Atlanta getting supplies, Jim had been digging graves all day. I didn't get too much of the specifics but he had apparently had some type of dream that led him to do it. I remembered the dream I had had the night before finding Merle on the roof and shivered.

I was heading to my truck when I saw him. He was leaning against the side of it, his crossbow strung across his back and a cigarette in his hand. He was staring off into the distance when I saw him and I paused in my approach.

Daryl Dixon. I hadn't talked to him since the night when I had stormed out of his truck. Since then, it felt like he had been purposely avoiding me. I couldn't really blame him, as I had been avoiding him just as purposefully. But then last night, there had been that moment when I thought that the corpse was going to get him and it had _devastated_ me. I'd gotten to that corpse in record time and the relief I felt when my knife had penetrated it's skull before it could get a chunk out of him could not be understated.

And then there had been that moment when he had turned around to face me. He had looked at that corpse at his feet and had known that I had saved him. When he had looked back to me, there had been an undercurrent of heat and fire that had ignored everything around us. The cries and screams of terror, the groaning and growls of corpses, the crying girl in his arms, everything. For that one, tiny sliver of a moment, nothing and no one else had existed. I'd almost thought he might try to kiss me, right there in the middle of the bloodbath.

But we weren't in the middle of a bloodbath anymore. Now the only thing that surrounded us was heavy silence and the smell of burning, rotting corpse flesh in the air. I felt a stirring of anxiety in my gut, but it was pretty minimal, to be honest. I'd been awake since dawn the previous day and between running around the city, the confrontation when I arrived back, Amy's death and the subsequent battle of corpses, I might as well have been dead on my feet. I walked right past him, lowering the hatch of my bed and hopping up. I needed clothes that weren't stained with the blood of the girl I thought would become my best friend.

"Avery," he called from his positioning on the ground.

I didn't look over my shoulder to look at him. Most of the boxes that had been in my truck the night before were still there and I was having a hard time finding my clothes. "Daryl," I replied, surprised at how lifeless my voice sounded. I shifted a box in my attempt to find my clothes, only to have another fall on top of my injured arm. "Ow! Fuck, god damnit!" I cursed, struggling to pull it off with my good arm.

"Let me help ya," I heard Daryl's voice, much closer now. I looked over my shoulder to see that he had hopped into the bed of my truck and was making his way towards me.

For some reason, anger filled me at his words. I gave the box my arm was trapped under a mighty shove, sending it crashing down onto the other boxes, it's contents of lotions and beauty products spilling out haphazardly. Once my arm was free, I stood to my full height.

"I didn't ask for your help, _Daryl Dixon_," I growled through my teeth. "Didn't ask for it and don't need it," I told him before turning around and continuing my search for clothes. I found some in a box and I pulled out a shirt. I stripped off my old one and quickly donned the fresh one. When I turned back around, Daryl was still standing there. "Enjoying the show?" I sneered. "What do you want?" I demanded.

He just stared at me for a moment, completely silent before he shook his head, "Nothin'," he said quietly, turning back around and maneuvering over the boxes. I watched him walk away until his feet hit the gravel and then I found myself following him.

"No, fuck that," I snapped, jumping down to the gravel as well. "Obviously it's something," I said to his back, as he hadn't stopped walking away from me. "You don't seem the type to talk just to hear your head rattle, so what is it?" I demanded. Anger filled me again as he continued on his way, as if he couldn't hear me. I ran to close the distance between us, grabbing his forearm and wrenching at it with all my might. He spun around at my contact, his face alight with rage. "What is it?!" I almost screamed at him.

"I'm sorry, alright?!" he yelled right back at my face. "I'm sorry for the shit I said about you and Merle," he said again, quieter now.

I felt my anger evaporate instantly, as if it had never been there in the first place. Daryl Dixon didn't seem the type that apologized very easily. In fact, it seemed like it was almost painful for him to say the words.

"It's okay, " I said weakly, my exhaustion returning in full force. I suddenly felt dizzy, and I swayed on my feet. "You didn't know..." I managed to get out. My voice sounded far away to my ears.

"You alright, girl?" I heard Daryl ask, his voice sounding like he was speaking from underwater.

I shook my head to try and clear it of whatever was obstructing my hearing. It only served to further pronounce the feeling of vertigo I was experiencing. "I don't feel–" I tried to finish speaking, tell him that I wasn't feeling the greatest, but I wasn't able to. Darkness invaded my vision and I knew no more.

.

* * *

><p>.<p>

**Daryl Dixon POV**

"I say we put a pick axe in his head and be done with it," I spat. People were standing around in a group, talking about Jim like there was any other option than the obvious one. It was all pretty obvious to me. You get bit and you're pretty much dead already. No ifs, ands, or buts about it.

"Is that what you would want?" Shane snapped at me, self righteous as ever. Even the sound of his voice pissed me off. "If it were you?" he asked.

"Hell yeah," I told him honestly, "and I'd thank you while you did it," _you fucking prick_, I finished the statement in my head.

"I hate to say it," the old man spoke up. My eyes flashed to him, "I never thought I would...but maybe Daryl's right," he sighed, looking defeated.

I fought the urge to tell him to go fuck himself. _Maybe_ I was right. Of course I was fucking right. What part of this situation did these people not understand? You get bit, you die. You die, you rise again. You rise again, you need to get put down. The way I saw it, we were saving him a couple extra steps.

Rick stared open-mouthed at Dale, "Jim's not a _monster_, Dale, or some rabid dog," he exclaimed, looking at the old man like he was a whole different person.

"I'm not suggesting–"

"He's _sick_. A sick man. We start down that road, where do we draw the line?" Rick asked.

I rolled my eyes. Was this guy for real? "The line is pretty clear," I snapped, my temper holding on by a thin thread. I was fixing to grab the pick axe that was sitting on the ground and take care of the problem myself. "Zero tolerance for Walkers, or them to be."

Next they started up about going to the CDC or some shit and I stopped paying attention. I found my eyes traveling across the way to where Jim was sitting by himself. He was pale as a ghost and kept shaking his head, like he was trying to clear his head of some thought he didn't want. I felt a sliver of pity stirr for him. Most people didn't have to sit around and wait for the turn like he was having to. Most people were like Amy, who died from blood loss or some other type of trauma before they had a chance to turn. Jim was the first one I'd seen who looked completely fine other than the single bite mark on his chest.

I wonder what he must be feeling like.

"Avery, you've got to tell them," the sound of the new girl's name broke me from my revery and I forced my attention back to the group. It was Glenn that spoke, looking at the small blonde expectantly.

At the sound of her name, her eyes flashed to Glenn and her skin turned deathly white. Merle, who was standing next to me, made his way over to her in an instant and I felt annoyance pop up again. What was with them two? My brother never gave no shits about anyone other than himself until this girl showed up. Now he was going to her side all the time, acting like some protector. It made no sense. He ain't never done that shit for me.

"Tell us what?" Rick asked, his head whipping around to look at the girl, suspicion in his eyes.

"Nothing," she spoke. Too fast, too panicked. She was lying, and everyone knew it. "I don't know what he's talking about," she lied some more.

"Avery, c'mon," Glenn pleaded to the girl, approaching her. Merle, who was at her side now, started displaying all the signs that he was fixing to beat some ass. Grinding his teeth, puffing out his chest, stretching out his hands. Glenn was fixing to get his teeth knocked in if he didn't back up. "You've got to tell them! You could be Jim's only chance!" he continued.

"She said she don't know what yer talkin' 'bout, China Man," Merle growled, taking a meaty hand and pushing back on Glenn's chest. The smaller man stumbled back but seemingly didn't care. He was looking at Avery with fire in his eyes.

"You want him to die, Avery? Is that what you want?" Glenn almost yelled. Avery flinched, drawing closer to Merle's side. Her eyes were wide, like two giant pools of water sitting on her face. I'd never seen her look like that before. Angry, yes. Indignant, yes. But frightened, no.

"What's going on here?!" Rick shouted, finally losing his cool. He'd been holding on by threads since the end of the Walker attack but now he'd seemingly lost it. "What are you talking about, Glenn?"

"He ain't talkin' about nothing, ya pig, so why don't ya mind yer own–" Merle started, only to be interrupted by the girl. She pulled on his arm, stopping him from heading towards Rick like he was trying to do.

"Merle, stop," she said beseechingly, "Glenn's right," she finished, sounding tired and worn out. The look on her face was resigned.

"If ya say so, Birdie."

The girl stepped forward, raising her chin in a show of strength. She squared her shoulders and turned her head, sizing the group up. She was the image of strength, if not for the fear in her eyes and the tremors in her hands. "I'm invisible to the corpses," she pronounced. "I don't smell like food to them. Glenn thinks I might be key to the cure."

Silence. Absolute complete fucking silence. Shock wasn't even the word to describe it. It sounded completely insane and yet so many things suddenly made sense.

She'd shown up loaded with supplies, looking healthy as ever. Certainly hadn't been starving before she found us. The way she had been able to get those guns and Merle '_easy peasy_', as she put it. And yesterday, going off by herself into Atlanta and coming back with all them supplies, more than a group of five men had been able to.

Girl was fucking invisible to the Walkers. Well, shit.

I looked to Merle and he met my gaze. An unspoken question passed between us and he gave me a subtle nod. It was the only confirmation I needed.

More conversation followed but I stopped paying attention. I felt like the biggest asshole on the face of the planet. I'd known she and Merle were hiding something, but I'd never even considered the possibility that it was something like this.

The group eventually dispersed and Merle made his way over to me. He placed a hand on my shoulder, shaking me slightly. My eyes snapped to his face.

"Ya alright, lil' brother?" he asked.

"You knew? You knew about her, the whole damn time?" I demanded, anger filling me.

"A'course I did."

"And you didn't say nothin'?" I snapped, pushing his hand off of me. "You couldn't tell me?!" Merle and I were never one to have much as far as conversations go, but he was never one to lie to me, either. I'd asked him what had happened on that roof maybe a dozen times, and he'd always given me the same, bullshit story. I'd known it was bullshit. He'd known that I knew. He never changed his story though, not a once.

"She asked me not ta," he replied simply, as if that was a good enough explanation.

"So you just do whatever she tells you to?" I asked, disgusted. Saliva built up in my mouth and I spat angrily. "The fuck are you? Her pet dog? Merle Dixon, lapdog, is that it?"

"Ya watch yer mouth, lil' brother," Merle warned, anger leaking into his voice. "I ain't nobody's lapdog, ya hear me? Watch yerself."

"Then what is it, huh?" I asked, confused and angry. "What is it? Why'd you lie to me, Merle? You and her? You guys got a thing or somethin'?" I demanded, finally voicing the worry that had been festering in my head since the night he took off after her when she lost her shit on Shane.

"Lord, no. C'mon, man! I'm old enough to be lil' Birdie's father," Merle laughed, seemingly finding the situation funny or something. Made me wanna punch his face in.

"Ain't never stopped you before," I said, sizing him up. He continued to laugh as I spoke, only serving to piss me off more. I clenched my fist, getting ready to punch him in the face. Merle's eyes flashed to my side and he observed me tensing up. He put his hands up to placate me.

"Woah, now lil' brother," he said, through his laughter. "Calm yerself down, now, alright?" he told me, lowering his hands. He'd stopped laughing by this point, though he continued to smirk like some dumb bastard. "Avery and I ain't like that. She's just a girl I owe my life to. Not ta mention my right hand," he said, holding it up as proof. We'd managed to get the cuff off about a week ago, but the red lines from where he'd cut himself were still apparent. "C'mon now, man. I know you gotta tingle in yer pants for her. I wouldn't do that to ya."

"Man, shut the fuck up," I snapped, abruptly embarrassed rather than angry. I sighed, wiping my brow of the sweat that threatened to drip into my eyes. The Georgia heat was blaring harshly on us survivors, making the smell of rotten bodies even worse.

"Why, lil' brother? Ya say somethin' to her?" Merle asked. He still looked way too damn pleased with the situation.

"Mind your own business, dickhead," I snarled before walking away from him. I went to where the pick axe lay on the ground, picking it up. Might as well be useful.

I spent the next half hour bringing down the sharp head of the axe into the skulls of the disposed Walkers. It was dirty work, work that no one else particularly wanted to do. Seemed like the perfect job for me.

I looked down at the corpse I was about to put my axe through, pausing when I saw that it was the remains of that dickhead, Ed. He'd been chewed on and torn apart pretty thoroughly, with a large part of his chest and stomach missing. I couldn't help but be a little pleased that the douchebag had finally gotten what he deserved. I obviously had never said anything or done anything about it because it wasn't my place, but I'd seen how this sorry excuse of a man had treated his wife and daughter. Reminded me of my old man. Not to mention, this sorry fuck had been the one to punch Avery in the face. I was going to enjoy putting an axe through this sorry piece of shit's head.

"I'll do it," I heard a quiet voice from behind me. I turned to look and saw that it was Ed's wife, a little mouse of a thing. I couldn't quite remember her name-Karen? Carla?-but I remembered her face. "He was my husband," she explained, reaching for the axe. Well, damn. Who was I to say no?

I handed her the axe and stepped back to observe. She seemed to falter for a moment, shifting the tool in her hands to find her grip. I looked at her face and saw that her lip was trembling and tears were forming in her eyes. Then, almost out of nowhere, she lifted the axe above her shoulders before bringing it down on her husband's skull. His rotten flesh busted open around the sharp blade and made a wet, squelching noise. She pulled the blade free with slight effort before bringing it down again and again, growing more hysterical with each motion. I took a step back, suddenly feeling like I was imposing on a private scene that I shouldn't be seeing.

I walked away, going to grab my canteen for a much needed drink. As I brought it to my mouth, I looked around and my eyes eventually fell on the new girl, who was some distance away, helping the older blonde lady bury her little sister. Guilt settled in my gut. I remembered our last interaction and cringed.

I had been the one to seek her out, something I was never particularly comfortable doing when it came to women. I had obsessed and stressed about it until I was practically pulling my hair out like some stupid, little teenaged girl. Finally I had just said _fuck it_ and walked over to her truck. She slept in the bed of her truck instead of the RV for some reason, something that I found endearing. I'd used a bird call to try and get her attention, something that wouldn't have woken her up if she was sleeping. To my surprise, her head had peaked over her paneling and I was greeted by her wide, blue eyes staring down at me. She'd flashed me a smile before crawling over the side of her truck to the ground, and I'd been greeted by the sight of her scantily clad body in a pair of shorts and a tank top. She'd walked in front of me and I wasn't ashamed to say that I had enjoyed the view immensely.

We'd gone into my truck and everything seemed fine, until she had mentioned my brother's name. The way her voice had sounded, halting and unsure, had set me off. I'd heard that voice before, countless times. Merle would pick a chick up, fool around for a minute, and leave them hanging. Inevitably, they'd come to me for answers. I wasn't a very approachable person but to a girl who hooked up with my brother, my walls weren't too much of a challenge.

_So...uhh...is Merle okay? I mean, he seems fine, but I've been hearing around camp that he's been acting weird..._

_Well yeah he'd been acting weird, you stupid bitch_, I'd thought. _He's sitting in his tent, detoxing from the drugs he'd used on a daily basis before he met you. He's running off after you after you freak out and leave, like some pussywhipped bitch. He ain't never run off after anyone before. Not for some tail and certainly not for his own brother. _

Needless to say, the interaction hadn't gone well. I hadn't actually said anything but I'd all but accused her of fucking him. I didn't know what bothered me more, the idea that she was fucking him or the idea that she wasn't and yet he still held her up on a fucking pedestal. Either way, she had caught my drift and proceeded to freak the fuck out. She'd gotten out of my truck faster than I had thought was possible and slammed my door so hard that I was surprised my window hadn't shattered.

Since then, I'd avoided her like the plague. Stayed in the forest all day and only came back when everyone's campfires were barely even embers. I'd seen her a handful of times, it was hard not to in such close quarters, but any time I did I promptly turned and walked away from the situation. I'd gotten caught up in some weird tangle of emotions because of her and I needed to get a fucking grip. This girl was fire and if I kept thinking about her, I was most definitely going to get burned. She'd managed to do something that no other girl before her had managed to; she'd gotten under my skin. Had me thinking about her day and night, like some prepubescent girl with a crush. I needed to distance myself. She was too young, too fiery, too much.

Until last night. The Walkers had taken us all by surprise. There had been blood and gunshots and screams that filled the air and everything had seemed to speed up. I had seen that little girl surrounded by three Walkers and instinct had taken over. I'd shot at two of them with my crossbow and put a knife in the other one's head without a thought. I'd be damned if I'd let a kid turn into one of those _things_. When the Walkers were dealt with, I had kneeled down and spoken to the girl. She was panicked and scared, and my normally distant demeanor probably hadn't done much as far as making her trust me. Eventually, using many more words than I wanted to, I had gotten her into my arms to try and find her mother.

When I had turned around, Avery had been standing there, eyes wide and chest heaving. At her feet lay a Walker with her blade sticking out of it's head. In that instant, I'd known that she had just saved my life as well as the little girl in my arms. I had simply stared at her for a brief second, blown away at how beautiful she looked. Covered in blood and wild-eyed, mouth set in a snarl, looking at me in a way I didn't even know how to describe. I'd wanted her, right then. Me, the most practical man in the fucking world, I had wanted to take her in my arms and claim her as mine. Walkers be damned. If it wasn't for her stepping back and snapping me back into motion, I might've done it, even despite all of my efforts to distance myself from her.

But now that I knew what she and my brother had been hiding, I felt like the biggest asshole on the planet. I felt _guilty_, which was a very rare emotion for me. I felt the need to mend the bridge that I had burned for some sick, masochistic reason.

It was this thought that had me leaning against her truck, waiting for her to come by. What would I even say to her? I didn't apologize to people. I rarely did anything that I felt called for one. The whole situation made me extremely uncomfortable and I debated on just walking away from it. Why did I need to apologize? So, I'd been a prick to her, so what? I didn't _owe _her anything, even if she had saved my life. She wasn't nothing to me.

My thoughts were interrupted by her approaching. I hadn't let myself pay too much attention before but now that I was, I noticed how small and tired she looked. Her blonde hair was matted with dried blood and guts, and her clothes were ruined. Her face, normally so lively and bright, was haggard and worn, with dark circles under her eyes. Her mouth was drawn in a thin, harsh line. Her blue eyes looked dead.

Avery met my gaze and I saw anger abruptly cross her features. Great, she was still pissed at me. She squared her shoulders and walked right past me, heading towards the back of her truck. She lowered the hatch at the end of her bed and hopped inside.

"Avery," I called out to her, walking towards the back of her truck. I hated how pleading my voice sounded.

"Daryl," she responded icily in greeting. She didn't even turn around to look at me, digging through some of the boxes that cluttered her bed in a search for something I didn't know what. I watched her for a moment, unsure of how to proceed. The sight of her had evaporated any misgivings I had about apologizing to her. I knew that she hadn't deserved my previous aggression towards her and I knew I wanted to make things right. I just didn't know how. Suddenly, a box that she had been holding as she digged through the box underneath it fell, landing on her injured hand. "Ow! Fuck, god damnit!" she cursed, howling in pain as she tried to push the box off of her injured hand with her good hand.

I was up onto the bed of her truck before I really knew what I was doing, hoping over the boxes. "Let me help ya," I said as I approached her.

Something in the tone of my voice must've set her off because while she had been struggling previously with getting the box off her hand, she suddenly shoved it off with surprising force, sending it's contents scattering to the floor. As soon as her arm was free, she stood, looking at me square in the eye.

"I didn't ask for your help, _Daryl Dixon_," she seethed, saying my name like she thought it was a bad word. "Didn't ask for it and don't need it," she continued. I was surprised by the venom in her voice and it took me off guard. I was frozen for a moment, unmoving as she turned around and continued digging through the boxes. She pulled out a fresh shirt, promptly pulling hers off before putting the new one on. For the brief moment that her skin was exposed, I observed her. Bruises covered her sides, presumably from lifting and maneuvering the heavy boxes yesterday. She'd probably compensated for her weak hand with her body, resulting in her bruising. There was also another, rather large bruise that spread from her front, over her right shoulder. Probably from the kick back from the rifle she had been using last night. I felt a stirring of pity for her. If her body was this battered and beaten from the events of the last two days, I'd hate to imagine what her mind felt like.

She turned around, looking surprised to see me still standing there. "Enjoying the show?" she snapped at me, snarling. "What do you want?" she demanded, angrily. I was abruptly embarrassed, feeling like some perv despite the fact that I hadn't looked at her in any type of sexual way when her shirt was removed.

"Nothin'," I mumbled, turning around and walking away. I made my way out of her truck, hopping down onto the gravel below. What had I even been thinking, coming over to talk to her like this? I'd been a fucking asshole to her, and now I expected her to listen to me? Why should she? She was a self-respecting, independent woman. Of course she wasn't gonna take any shit from me, some white trash, stupid hick. I was a fucking idiot and I was pissed that I even put myself in this situation. I shoulda just stayed away, like I'd told myself to.

I was walking away when I heard feet hit the gravel behind me, and steps approaching. "No, fuck that. Obviously it's something," I heard Avery speak from behind me. I didn't stop. She'd made it pretty clear that she didn't want to hear a word I said. I wasn't about to stick my neck out only to get slapped in the face. She was just some silly idea that I'd got in my head, and I needed to flush her out of my system. "You don't seem the type to talk just to hear your head rattle," the girl continued, "so what is it?" she demanded.

_Just keep walking, Daryl_, I thought to myself. _Just keep walking._

Suddenly I felt a hand wrap around my arm, yanking harshly on it. The force of it had me spinning around, facing her. Her features, so lifeless only minutes before, were alight with rage, looking at me like she wanted to rip my head off. "What is it?!" she practically screamed at me.

"I'm sorry, alright?!" I almost yelled, my anger and embarrassment leaking through into my voice. Shock filtered over her features, taking place of the anger. "I'm sorry for the shit I said about you and Merle," I repeated, lowering my voice with little effort. It was hard to stay mad when she looked so bewildered and confused.

After a few moments, she finally spoke, "It's okay..." she said, and her voice had lost the fire that it had only moments prior. It sounded tired and fragile. I watched as she swayed on her feet, her face losing it's color. "You didn't know..." she continued.

I looked at her for a moment, watching as she shook her head slightly, her eyes closed. She swayed some more. "You okay, girl?" I asked, concerned. She opened her eyes to look at me.

"I don't feel–" she started. I watched as her eyes rolled up into the back of her head, and she started to fall. Shocked, I quickly grabbed her and stopped her from hitting the ground. She was dead weight in my arms, and felt far too light. She'd probably had eaten less since she'd gotten to our camp than she had the whole time the apocalypse had been going on. I bent down, placing my arms behind her knees and lifting her in my arms. Her head sagged back, her body lifeless.

"Is she okay? What happened?" I heard a voice call. I looked over to see it was Rick, heading towards us. He sounded concerned.

"She's fine. She just fainted," I told him, adjusting her in my arms. "I'm gonna put her in the RV," I told him. His eyes flashed to the girl in my arms, taking in her condition before he looked back at me and nodded. I walked past him, heading to the RV.

"What happened to her?" I heard Dale ask, from his position on the roof. I looked up at him for a brief second, before returning my gaze forward. I didn't answer as I maneuvered the girl through the narrow opening of the door, making sure not to bump her head on anything as I brought her to the couch. I laid her down on it as gently as I could, observing her for a moment and taking in how peaceful her face looked when she was sleeping. Girl had been up for almost two days straight, she needed the rest she was getting now. I pulled away from her, exiting the RV and closing the door behind me.

"She alright?" I was asked almost as soon as my hand left the handle. I turned to look and saw it was that Shane fucker, looking between me and the door anxiously. I held back the urge to snarl.

"She's fine," I growled, shoving past him. "Just exhausted. She passed out," I said begrudgingly. "She needs rest. Leave her alone."

"Well how long does she need?" he asked, sounding impatient. "We don't have all the time in the world here. If she can do what she claims she can, we need to go on one more supply run before we all go on into the city. We need guns, ammo, all the shit that she didn't bring back for some reason. Bringing back lotion and hair products, such a fucking girl–"

"Why don't you go yourself then, asshole," I snapped, abruptly seeing red. "That girl in there? She's exhausted. She went into that city and brought the things she thought we needed. She already brought you and your pretty boy friend the guns he dropped, already gave you all of hers," I seethed, walking towards him angrily, "And you want more? Man, go fuck yourself," I snarled.

"Hey, hey!" I heard another voice call, and was greeted by Rick rapidly approaching me, giving me a slight shove away from his friend.

"Of course we need more, you white trash junkie," Shane spat back, anger crossing his features. "We _always _need more. Why would she tell us if she didn't want to help with that?" he demanded.

"Maybe 'cause the China Man forced her hand, ya fucking idiot," I snapped, wanting nothing more than to punch this fucker's teeth in. His nose was all messed up and crooked; doubtless that someone else had felt similar to me in the past and had actually followed through on it. "You think she'd have told us otherwise? Girl was scared shitless, for Christ's sake."

"How would you know? You two best friends now or somethin'?" he asked acidly, sizing me up. I looked at him hard in the eyes and felt an undercurrent of emotion there. Jealousy. Normally I'd just assume he was looking at me in anger, or maybe he just didn't like me. But I was familiar with this particular feeling, especially nowadays. I knew what it was.

"Or somethin'," I replied back, taking a step forward.

"Woah now, let's calm down here," Rick spoke, stepping between us. He looked to Shane pointedly before looking back to me. "Daryl, I know Avery's had a rough couple of days," he said looking at me, "but we need to make sure she's telling the truth. That's quite a big claim that she's boasting."

"Are you kidding me?!" I heard another voice call from beside us. I looked and saw it was Glenn, rapidly approaching us. "Rick, I _told _you," he said emphatically, "I _saw _it with my own eyes. I saw her do it. She's not lying. Why would she be?" he demanded.

I heard a door slam open and my eyes went to the RV. Avery stood there, looking at all of us with a blank expression. The discussion about her abruptly stopped, and we all looked at her, dumbstruck, like we'd been caught with our hands in the cookie jar.

"Oh, c'mon, Glenn," she finally spoke, stepping down from the RV. She swayed precariously for a moment before finding her footing and heading towards us. "It's something you've gotta see to believe," she stated, turning her gaze towards Rick and Shane. "Am I right?" she snarked, wrinkling her nose in disgust.

"Look, Avery, I know–" Rick started, but she interrupted him.

"Yeah, whatever, Rick," she snapped. "I know how it is. You get a new animal at the zoo and everyone can't wait to crowd around and see it."

"That's not how it is, Avery. It's just–"

"I don't need your excuses, pig," she snarled, crossing her arms along her chest. "It won't work, anyway. If you want me to go into that city for more guns, I need to do it myself. You all can't be there," she told him.

"Why not?" he asked curiously, taking a step towards her.

"Yesterday, when Glenn snuck into my truck," she started, casting her eyes over to Glenn and sending a glare his way. He ducked his head in shame. "Corpses were all over my truck, all day. Clawing at the sides, trying to get up. They could smell him in there. I was killing 'em all day and couldn't figure out why," she told us, rolling her eyes. "Guess I'm more blonde than I thought. Anyway, in the city you need to be fast, sneaky. In, out, no attention drawn. Anyone else even _being _there is gonna draw attention."

"There's gotta be a way," Shane spoke up, and Avery's eyes flashed to him. "We need to know, need to see it with our own eyes," he told her.

"You listen here," she snarled, stepping towards him. "I don't know how many times I have to say this, cowboy. You don't _talk _to me. You don't _look _at me. Hell, I'd prefer if you didn't even _breathe _in my general direction, you got it?" she snapped, and I couldn't help the smirk that I felt form on my face. Her open dislike of Rick's right hand man gave me more pleasure than it probably should've. "Even _if _I agree to this, you're sure as hell not coming along. It'd be too tempting for me to throw you to the corpses."

"The fuck is your problem, Avery? I'm getting sick of your hostility, girl," Shane seethed, taking a step forward.

"Yeah? Well I'm getting sick of your ugly face," she shot right back, stepping forward and closing the distance between them. "Not to mention your voice, your breath, your fucking _shadow–_" I took a step forward, wanting to be close in case I needed to step in and intervene.

"Alright, that's enough, you two!" Rick almost shouted, interrupting and stepping between them. I figured he was getting sick and tired of playing mediator. "Shane, back off. Go somewhere," he demanded, shooting his best friend a look.

"Are you kidding me, man?" Shane demanded, looking offended that his best friend was trying to send him off.

"No, I'm not, Shane," he said, his voice firm. They locked gazes and I felt like there was an unspoken tension between them. "She doesn't want you here, brother. You need to go."

Everything went quiet for a minute as Rick and Shane stared each other down. Finally, after what seemed like forever, Shane turned and took off, kicking a bucket as he walked in frustration.

Once he was gone, Rick turned to look at Avery. "What do we have to do to make this happen?" he asked her.

She sighed, running a hand through her hair. "We don't have time for this," she finally said, sounding frustrated. "If we're gonna help Jim, we need to get to the CDC, like, yesterday."

"We have time for this," Rick argued. "What do we have to do to make it happen?"

She sighed again, kneeling down and eventually plopping on her ass. Her fire that she had directed towards Shane had apparently been put out, and the tired, exhausted look had returned to her face. "We'll take my truck to the highway," she finally spoke, rubbing her eyes. "Then we walk into the city. You really need more guns or do you just wanna see me with the corpses?" she asked blandly.

"I suppose we could use more guns, but it's not really a necessity," Rick admitted sheepishly.

"That's what I thought. If we don't have to go too far into the city, I'd rather not. You all will have to keep back a fair distance, and not downwind. You'll draw their attention and bring them coming your way. Then you'll be able to see them ignore me as they go in for your throats."

"Alright, then let's go. Who do you want?" he asked.

"You, Merle. And you, if you want," she said, looking to me. I nodded.

"How about T-Dog?" Rick suggested, looking at me nervously. Probably thinking me and my brother would jump him the first chance we got him alone. If Merle hadn't had some stupid epiphany, he'd probably be just in his worry. As it was, he had nothing to worry about.

"Fine then," Avery agreed, rolling her eyes. "Let's go. Time's a'ticking."

.

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><p>.<p>

**Avery's POV**

I hopped into my truck, slamming the door to the driver's side behind me. Rick hopped into the passenger's side, with Daryl, Merle and T-Dog getting in the back, which had been hastily cleared out. I jammed the key into the ignition, listening to the engine roar to life while fighting the urge to roll my eyes. From my peripheral vision, I saw motion from the ground beside me. I looked and saw it was Glenn, looking up at me from his position on the ground. I sneered, flipping him the bird. He saw the gesture and frowned, looking down to the ground.

I couldn't believe we were doing this. Wasting valuable daylight to go oogle at me like some exhibit at a freak show while a man lay dying. I seriously doubted that my condition was the key to anything, but the CDC sounded like a good deal. Maybe they'd have something they could give him, something to help. It was ridiculous that Rick insisted on spending our time like this.

I shifted gears, gunning the gas and speeding out of the quarry. I remembered that there were people in the back just in time, slowing down as I made my turns. Wouldn't want to pitch any of them into the ditch or off the side of a cliff.

"This is a waste of time," I said finally, glancing over at Rick.

"Maybe," he agreed, looking forward out of the windshield. He glanced down to where my hand was resting on the shifter. "You can drive stick?" he asked, sounding surprised.

I looked over to him, abruptly annoyed. "What is it with men being so surprised I know how to drive manually?" I asked, aspirated. "What? Just because I have a vagina I'm incapable of shifting gears? C'mon, dude," I snapped, casting a glance at him.

"Ain't nothing to do with you being a girl," he shot back, a startled laugh escaping him. "Sheesh. The mouth on you. Always catches me off guard. I'm just surprised, is all. I don't even know how to drive one of these things," he admitted.

Almost against my will, I felt a small smile reach my lips. I returned my eyes forward before speaking, "One of my mom's old boyfriends taught me, couple years back. Said automatics were for pussies," I told him, thinking back to Roy. For the first time since his death, I felt happy rather than depressed at his memory. "Guess he was right," I snarked.

Rick laughed lightly and silence eventually fell between us again. We reached the highway and as the first skyscrapers came into view, I hit the brake and shifted into park, cutting the engine. "We walk from here," I told him. He nodded, opening his door and stepping out. I followed suit.

"Now listen here, guys," I called, walking around to the back and addressing them as they each hopped down. "This is how it's going to go. All of you are going to _stay behind me_. Keep your fucking macho attitudes in check," I told them, looking at each of them seriously. "I know it's gonna be weird, what you're gonna see, but I'm gonna be fine. I won't need your help. Do you understand?" I asked.

"Ain't gotta tell me, Birdie, I know the drill," Merle quipped with a grin. I grinned at him, rolling my eyes.

"So you just gonna walk into a group of Walkers?" T-Dog asked, stepping forward, a look of panic and confusion on his face. "We just gonna let her do that? Man, y'all are crazy," he stated, looking between Rick and Merle.

"Ah, don't worry about it, Mr. Yo," Merle said, cuffing T-Dog lightly on the shoulder, "Birdie over here'll be just fine. Them Walkers won't harm a hair on her pretty, lil' blonde head, I'm telling ya."

"How can you be so sure?" he demanded, his body tensing. T-Dog and Merle had never hashed out their issues about what happened on the rooftop in Atlanta and no doubt it was making T-Dog be on edge.

"Cuz I seen it before."

"Yeah, he has," I agreed, taking a step towards T-Dog. I looked at him seriously until he met my gaze. "I appreciate your concern," I told him, "but it's unnecessary. I'm gonna be _fine_. And you'll be, too, as long as you listen to me. But you _have _to do as I say. You just have to, alright?" I asked. He looked conflicted but he eventually nodded, looking me straight in the eye. I let out a sigh of relief.

"Alright," I said, stepping back from him. I looked at the sky, observing the sun. It looked to be about 10 or so. I needed to make this quick, give us enough time to get back to camp and get Jim to the CDC. "Let's get this show on the road, shall we?" I asked. I turned, heading down the street towards the city.

I heard their footsteps following behind me, as I had instructed. I walked quickly, with purpose in my steps. It wasn't too long until I saw a small pack of corpses shuffling about, about four of them, heading down the highway. I was elated. We hadn't even gotten into the city yet. I looked over my shoulder at the men, "Don't do anything, you hear me?" I demanded. "Not a damn thing. I got this. Stay here, stay back."

I ran forward, stopping about thirty feet away from the survivors behind me and about twenty feet from the group corpses in front of me. I pulled the hatchet free of my belt, shifting it in my grasp and then I waited. It felt like hours for the corpses to reach me and I was instantly annoyed at their slow pace. They didn't seem to notice the four men behind me, as the breeze was coming from their direction. The smell of their rank, rotten flesh reached my nose once they were about ten feet away. I positioned myself right in front of their path, holding completely still as they passed me. One of them even bumped into my side as they walked and it growled slightly before it continued on it's way.

Once they were past me, I turned around to face the survivors behind me. All of them except Merle were standing stock still, looks of complete shock on their faces. The corpses were getting closer to them and I ran to catch up, swinging my hatchet viciously at their heads one by one until they were all littering the ground lifelessly. I knelt down, using what was left of one of their shirts to clean off my blade. After I was done, I stood and walked back towards the men.

"Alright, you guys ready to go?" I asked, purposely keeping my tone light. Rick, T-Dog and Daryl were speechless, looking at me with wide eyes and I decided not to stop. I walked right past them to my truck, opening the door and climbing up. I looked and saw that they were still there, looking at me. I sighed, "Are you guys coming or not?" I demanded.

Merle was the first one to move, heading to my truck with a bounce in his step. "Shotgun!" he called, sounding like an excited, little kid. I rolled my eyes at his antics, leaning inside and closing the door behind me as I waited.

Well, the cat was truly out of the bag now. No coming back from this.

.

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><p><strong>AN: I can't help but worry that this chapter was sort of anticlimactic, in a way. I know you all were so excited to see the survivor's reactions and I'm sure you all were expecting some sort of blowout or something, but I had never intended for that to be the case, at least not right away. The survivor's reaction to Avery's ability is going to be a reoccurring conflict in this story. Seriously, people are never going to get over it. So if you didn't get the reaction you wanted in this chapter, I'm sure you'll get it, sooner or later. Right now, the survivor's are in the 'shock and disbelief' stage.**

**I was seriously stressing over Daryl's POV in this chapter. Like, chewing all my nails off and spending hours writing the same damn paragraph over and over again type stressing. But then one of my lovely reviewers, _sillygabby_, gave me a bit of her wisdom. She told me that she supposed Daryl could be read as OOC if we're following cannon guidelines, but my story isn't cannon. I'm not Robert Kirkman, and Daryl is not my original character. That's the joy of fanfiction; you get to take other people's toys and play with them, make them do what _you_ want them to do. Obviously I'm going to keep him as in character as I can but I'm not going to stress until I give myself ulcers about if he seems 'too OOC' anymore. I hope that you enjoy my interpretation of him and if not, I'm sorry. Nothing I can do about it.**

**As always, thank you for reading. I would love to hear your feedback! **

**I'll see all of you next week~~!**


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